"Lily."
"Nina."
That's all that had ever passed between them.
Or, so it seemed.
Perhaps, once in a while, Lily would let her piercing green eyes focus on the pulse point of Nina's neck, longing to sink her teeth into the fair flesh. Or possibly, on a rare occasion, Nina might run a hand through her mouse brown locks while allowing her gaze to wander appreciatively along the curve of Lily's hip.
No one knew. No one needed to know.
It was just sex.
No one needed to know that their first time together had been a heated romp during Nina's Unveiling Party. No one needed to know about the hot promises Lily had whispered into Nina's silken tresses as she let her fingers pleasure her. No one needed to know about the handprints in the condensation on the windows of Lily's car; clear evidence of the feverish passion occurring within. No one needed to know how loudly Nina had screamed when she fell over the edge of control, or about the holes she'd made in the seat's upholstery with her manicured nails. And not a soul needed to know about the black lace thong she wasn't wearing when she returned to her guests, the lot of them too drunk to notice Lily's disheveled appearance or Nina's obvious afterglow.
It was just sex.
It wasn't anyone's business that their second time had been the night of their company's preseason ballet showcase. It wasn't anyone's business that they had tumbled onto the floor of the dressing room, letting their mouths explore any territory hands couldn't reach. It wasn't anyone's business that Lily had grabbed onto a costume rack to steady herself when Nina ran her tongue along the strip of skin just beneath her navel. It wasn't anyone's business that Lily let her ruby red, kiss-swollen lips form a seal around the flesh of Nina's collarbone, leaving a rather impressive purple mark there. And it certainly wasn't anyone's business that Lily had bit into the creamy expanse of her lover's shoulder as three of Nina's fingers plunged in and out of her sex, sending her into blissful oblivion.
It was just sex.
It didn't matter that the first time they had ever felt anything was after a fight between Nina and her then-boyfriend Thomas. It didn't matter that Lily had rushed to her lover in earnest, kissing each tear from Nina's flushed cheeks. It didn't matter that Nina had taken the time to admire the body of her sinfully graceful siren before using her tongue to commit every dip and curve to memory. It didn't matter that Nina had captured the ample, appetizing mound of her lover's breast beneath her hand, brushing her thumb over the dusky nipple to elicit a breathy moan from Lily. It didn't matter that when Nina let her lips explore the dripping folds of Lily's sex, the woman peaked immediately, screaming her pleasure to the walls of Nina's bedroom. And it absolutely didn't matter that Lily had held her beloved through the night, even as sobs wracked Nina's naked frame.
There was undoubted passion. There was lust; heat unimaginable. There was raw, unadulterated need, and almost primal instinct.
But it was just sex…
Wasn't it?