Chapter 4
The Dam is Broken
Monica wavers; Tracy takes her free hand, and tucks Monica's hair behind her ear, then trails it down her face, brushing a thumb over slightly parted lips, across her throat and onward south. Curling her fingers between the seam of Monica's shirt, and her body, she follows the hem down, feeling the tiny frayed knots where buttons once lived.
She hears Monica swallow, and feels her stomach seize as the back of her knuckles passed over it. A slight deviation of direction as she runs out of nightshirt fabric, leads Tracy's hand to the elastic top of Monica's PJ bottoms.
"Tracy" Monica stammers at a cracked whisper, almost a plea, all resistance crumbling.
Her grip involuntarily tightens, almost painfully, on Tracy's other wrist. Tracy audibly sucks a quick breath of air in through her teeth, and continues her relentless path
It takes Monica more then a second to realize Tracy has been moving forward, forcing her backward toward the leather couch.
"Last chance Monica"
Tracy coaxes breathlessly, and then adds a cruel undertone, that Monica has no way of knowing she doesn't really mean.
"Because I could be just as happy with one last drink and a hot bath" she winks
It's just her way. It's the last thorn to prick you after caressing the stem. It doesn't make the rose smell any less sweet. It's pure defense to hide a need possibly bigger then even Monica's.
The back of Monica's legs hit the edge of the sofa, and she almost stumbles backwards. This fumble causes her, much to Tracy's delight, to release her wrist.
She had been holding onto the band of Monica's pants with her free hand, and now, as they are stopped here, face to face, she finds Monica's breast once more, cupping it at first, a gentle squeeze causing a sigh to escape from her conquest.
"Hmmmm, this is where I left off, isn't it" she drips at a whisper.
Then marveling again at the hardness of her nipple, she slips it between her forefinger and thumb. Tracy then brings her other hand down to a shaky thigh. With an upward sweep, she rakes her nails hard. Oh how she wants to move to devour her, right now, but she has to pace this. You don't rush a fine Scotch. 30 year old single malt is a work of art. Taking Monica will be too.
Monica reaches and catches Tracy's chiseled jaw in her hand. Her thoughts are a blur, and there is no more protesting.
She cocks Tracy's head back, and is met will little resistance, and descends on her throat.
Monica's head swims with the scent of her as she breaches the gap. Her other hand finds a more than flimsy robe and shoves the cascading fabric aside, and enters near the beginning of Tracy's ribs. Unlike herself, Tracy is more flesh then clothes, and this is a pleasant discovery. She finds herself clutching, holding on for dear life as if this was an apparition about to vanish.
She closes a hot mouth on Tracy's pulse, and rakes her teeth on tight skin as she sucks and draws. She trails her hand down to the small of Tracy's spine. Tracy pops to attention with a throaty moan, which was obviously not supposed to be heard.
My god, I've created a monster, a sweet, carnal, starving monster, Tracy thinks to herself, as her knees feel as though they will buckle. Her hands continue their delicious assault on Monica's breasts, evoking the most sensual sounds from her prey.
With a deft turn of her head, and shrug down of her shoulder her cheek brushes just close enough to encourage Monica to find her mouth again and Monica doesn't miss a beat in slipping her hand, from jaw, to the back of Tracy's head.
This kiss is all encompassing; their tongues are slick, warm, and loose, unlike the push for dominance before. It is all the surrender Monica has and all that Tracy will ever allow. These women earned this, running on adrenaline and pure instinct, the truth that this is a first for both of them, seems very far away.
One last nudge and Monica has no choice but to sit, as Tracy bends and follows her descent, even though she remains standing, until the kiss breaks. Tracy's hands are forced to stop their play on Monica's skin. She is about to bring herself down to Monica's level, then she stops. She takes a second to stare, and stare hard into Monica's eyes, and she stares back with equal intensity. Everything that need be said is exchanged without words.
Monica's skin is flushed, and glistening, her breathing heavy. Tracy is just gloating inside, truly basking in the gloriously disheveled woman sitting in front of her. She reaches down and brushes the hair from Monica's forehead.
Monica is in the most amazing position to look up Tracy's body, bra-less, but black lace silken panties. She can see quivers dance across Tracy's stomach no matter how hard she tries to act indifferent and controlled.
She scoots to the edge of the couch, and reaches forward, into Tracy's robe, and runs her hands around to the back of Tracy's thighs. This opens the robe just far enough to expose Tracy's small, but pert breasts, a glimmer of sweat enhances their curves. Monica moves her hands up to a firm, backside, exposed, save for a small line of fabric nestled between each cheek, and a slight band that continues around her small waist. She intertwines this in her fingers.
Tracy feels dizzy and hot, and also reacts like someone about to lose their leverage. She draws her fingers through the top of Monica's hair, to the back of her head and tugs slightly with a handful, forcing Monica to look up. She is met by a very serious look.
"Whatever you are about to do, you know there is no turning back don't you?"
Tracy reveals a lot of herself in the delivery of that sentence. It is spoken clear and clean, yet not harsh, not demanding, not contrived. It was an allowance for Monica to stop, if that is what her real desire was. She isn't sure what she expected of this, but she has been surprised at every turn by Monica's fight, and hunger, and conviction.
She was also more surprised at her own feelings. How badly she wanted this, needed this, how afraid she was that Monica would stop at any second, and of the void that would follow. Tracy also knew without a doubt she would die before admitting that out loud. She lets her grip loose on Monica's hair, and moves her hand to her cheek.
"You know this changes everything?" Tracy continues
"Yes Tracy, I am counting on that" Monica replies before she pulls Tracy to her