Behind the Green Curtain (25 page)

Chapter 35

Caton never agreed to spend the
weekend with Amelia, but she never refused, and at some point, it was just
understood. Just as the change in their relationship was understood. And that
sex was always an option before that. And that Amelia could come to Caton
whenever and wherever the mood struck her before that, and Caton would give
into her every time. They had spent the entirety of their unusual courtship
doing without discussion. At the point they had reached, words seemed
superfluous.

At the point they had reached, a
weekend with Amelia should have seemed routine.

Amelia had a sixth sense about Jack
that Caton could only assume came from years of marriage to a lying husband who
never bothered to call. She knew when Jack would be late, which was most
nights. She knew how late Jack would be. Those nights, Caton stayed, sometimes
at Amelia’s request, sometimes because she couldn’t bring herself to leave,
and, between the two, they had tallied many hours together under the palace
roof.

She knew she shouldn’t give in to
either of their desires, she knew with every hour she was digging herself
deeper. But, in the silence of the house, when Sole left them alone and Amelia
did speak, quietly and in halting phrases, still holding back, but giving more
each time, Caton also knew she would plummet willingly into a black hole with
Amelia with no concern for what awaited her on the other side. So, despite how
it should have felt, pulling through the gates of the palace Friday morning was
anything but routine. Racked with both giddy anticipation and utter dread, it
was practically schizophrenic.

The balance tilted somewhat when
Caton pulled up behind the sports car in the driveway, readied for departure,
but not departed, and realized Jack was still inside. For a moment, she
entertained the notion of driving off, coming back when he was gone, or waiting
in the car for him to leave. Either would send up red flags, but maybe that was
exactly what she should have been doing, fanning smoke signals, tapping out
Morse code. She was in over her head. Maybe someone would come to her rescue.

Or maybe that was as much a fantasy
as her relationship with Amelia seemed at times.

With a sigh, Caton threw open her
door, well aware that, if there was going to be a rescue, she would be doing
her own saving.

Sneaking into the house with as
little indication of her arrival as possible, Caton glanced toward the stairs.
Nothing but silence met her, heavier than usual, so she went to the one place
where she  could always count on finding a friendly face.

“Good morning,” Sole greeted as she
passed through the doorway to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Caton returned,
moving to the bar. “Is Amelia upstairs?”

“Yes. She’s with Jack.” Sole kept
her tone neutral, setting coffee onto the counter without asking, and Caton
took the middle seat at the bar as usual. She could tell by feel that someone
had switched the positions of the stools, and realized she was getting far too used
to certain aspects of her current situation.

Dragging the cup closer, she
glanced at the clock, wondering how long it would take Jack to leave. His
presence alone was stifling, putting her uncomfortably on edge, which was more
her doing than his. It was, after all, his house.

Minutes later, sounds at the
doorway carried Jack into the room, and Caton tried to maintain her composure.
“Hello there, Caton,” Jack said, smile almost passive.

“Hello,” Caton replied, looking
past him to Amelia, whose lips spread into the same bewitching smile that made
every bad choice seem worth making.

“Is everything ready?” Jack asked
Sole, and Caton dragged her eyes from Amelia, returning them to her coffee,
which she deemed the safest place to keep them until Jack was gone.

“Right here.” Sole pushed some
boxes on the counter toward him, and Jack grabbed the stack in one hand as he
turned to Amelia.

“I have to get on the road,” he
declared, oddly chipper. “I said I’d be there by lunch.”

“Drive safe,” Amelia said, her
concern sounding strangely sincere.

“Sometimes I think you really do
love me,” Jack grinned, wrapping his free arm around his wife’s waist and
planting a kiss solidly on her lips.

With a rush of something she
refused to give name, Caton realized she had failed to keep her eyes trained on
her target, and turned back to the bar. Hands curling around the cup, she
clutched with such force her knuckles went white and the ceramic cried for
mercy. It was a split second, an absolute contradiction to the way in which they
normally interacted, but, for that split second, Amelia and Jack looked very
much like a happily married couple.

“I’ll be back Monday,” Jack said to
no response. Caton suspected he was often given the final word in his
household.

The lull that followed Jack’s
departure was a perfect calm, and Caton felt like a lone soul drowning in a
vast, still ocean, cries for help lost to the hypnotic serenity of the breaking
surf.

Amelia’s footsteps were nearly
drowned out by the quiet, but her presence was suffocating as she insinuated
herself into Caton’s personal space as if it was part of her lordly domain.
“Good morning,” she said, the hand sliding onto Caton’s back as likely to push
her under as to save her.

When she tensed at the touch
against her will, the hand stilled at once. “What’s wrong?” Amelia questioned
softly.

Biting her lip, Caton stared at her
hands with curiosity. Though she could feel the heat settling in on her palms,
branding them red, they felt detached at the same time. As if the pain belonged
to someone else.

“Caton,” Amelia softly commanded,
and Caton looked to her. Bitterness like an aftertaste on her tongue, she knew
it had to show. Oddly enough, the corners of Amelia’s lips jumped up at the
sight, as if there was something humorous or pleasant about the situation. “Are
you...” Amelia started and paused, moving closer like a territorial hunter.
“Are you jealous?”

Sometimes Caton didn’t know how she
kept anything from Amelia, when the woman always seemed to read her without
effort or permission. Turning away, the muscle in her jaw ticked almost
painfully. “Of course not,” she uttered. “I have no right to be jealous.”

If anything, she should feel
guilty. She was the one sitting in Jack’s house, wishing his marriage all kinds
of ill will, readying herself to spend the weekend with his wife.

“You have a right.” Amelia
eliminated the space left between them, hand skimming across the bar top to
slide the mug from Caton’s hands. “You just have no reason.”

Caton’s resistance was half-hearted
at best when Amelia’s fingers, extra warm from the mug, rose to her chin and
guided her eyes around to meet her reassuring gaze. Hands sliding onto Caton’s
cheeks, Amelia kissed her in a way that was undeniably persuasive, and Caton
admitted her weakness. Even if Amelia was lying to her, even if every word that
left her lips was fabrication, she would only ever believe what Amelia wanted
her to believe.

Pulling back, Amelia seemed
satisfied with her efforts. “Now, come upstairs,” she ordered. “I need you.”
And she walked off without waiting for reply.

Watching her disappear through the
doorway, Caton turned back to the bar, pretending for a moment she had the will
not to follow, and, glancing up with a smile, Sole pretended to believe her.

~ ~ ~

She didn’t know why it was so
surprising that Amelia needed her for work. It was why she had been hired,
after all. When she got to the landing of the second floor and Amelia called
her into her office, though, Caton approached the desk with confusion.

“I have to make some calls,” Amelia
explained, moving behind Caton and slipping a hand around her hip, fingertips
resting in a particularly distracting spot as she waved toward a folder on her
desk with the other. “There’s a lot of stuff in here. Just see what you can do
with it. It’s all pretty self-explanatory.” Breath pouring over Caton’s ear,
Amelia’s teeth nipped so hard it stung. “And we’ll both hurry, because the
sooner we get done, the sooner we can...”

Amelia left the statement hanging
and when she pulled away without warning, Caton couldn’t stop the groan of
frustration that leaked from her lips. Watching Amelia sit down across the
desk, she was pacified somewhat by Amelia’s smile, but not so much that she
didn’t feel the imbalance of power. Things had changed, but only so much.
Amelia still got to say where and when and for how long, and Caton still had to
heed her commands.

“And if I don’t want to do
anything?” she asked more out of curiosity than defiance.

Setting forward in her chair, hands
folding almost primly in front of her, Amelia’s smile faded into a good-natured
smirk. “Then, I guess you can go play with Sole. Innocently,” Amelia
emphasized. “And I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

Smile easing across her lips, it
occurred to Caton that Amelia might let her get away with more than she had
ever attempted. She wondered what would happen if she made her own demands,
cleared Amelia’s work away in one destructive swipe and took Amelia on the same
desk where she had chosen to demonstrate her sexual prowess on so many occasions.

Amelia could see it, Caton’s urge
to exert some authority. She could tell by the way Amelia’s eyes trailed over
her, waiting for her to make a move. So, Caton did. Picking up the folder from
the corner of Amelia’s desk, she glanced into Amelia’s smoldering gaze before
heading for the door.

“Caton.” Amelia’s rasp tickled down
her spine, and anticipation thrummed through Caton’s body as she turned back.
“I was just trying to help him so he would be gone before you got here.”

Not even close to what she expected
to hear, Caton lurched at the abrupt change in subject, embarrassed at her
obvious need for reassurance, and even more so that Amelia’s words made her
feel better. “You don’t have to explain,” she uttered.

“I know,” Amelia declared, smile
warming her gaze.

The hand could save her or push her
under, Caton reminded herself, weakly returning Amelia’s smile before escaping
the confines of her office. She could feel Amelia’s eyes trail her from the
room, ever-vigilant, and, sinking into the high-end office chair next door,
could swear she felt Amelia’s gaze through the wall.

Chapter 36

For someone who had work to do,
Amelia made more than her share of appearances. Every twenty minutes, it
seemed, she sauntered in with a remark that was somehow lascivious and classy
at the same time, much like Amelia herself - wicked, unorthodox fantasy wrapped
in veiled illusion.

Suggestive repartee disrupted only
by intentional full-body brushes made to seem accidental, it was punishment,
Caton knew, payback for what she had thought but hadn’t done. She may have
joined Amelia’s game, but Amelia wasn’t going to relinquish her title without
demonstrating her mastery.

When Amelia made her appearance
around lunchtime, Caton had accomplished exactly nothing, save the admittedly
impressive feat of not coming completely unraveled. Of course, that was exactly
what Amelia wanted, Caton was certain, as Amelia stepped up behind her,
pressing against her back as the copier flashed light onto the table in front
of them.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, and
nowhere in the simple question was there any inference to actual food.

Pushing off the table, Caton
whirled on her so fast, Amelia startled back a step. Catching her before she
could retreat, Caton yanked Amelia against her, watching Amelia’s expression
melt in relief and knew Amelia had done as much damage to herself as she had to
her target. “You fucking know I am,” Caton whispered, and Amelia’s light laugh
turned to a groan as she crushed their lips together.

“Hold on,” Amelia tried to slip
free as Caton dragged her lips along a delicately-curved jawline, and Caton’s
frustration only amplified when Amelia seemed amused by it. “I’ll be right
back,” she promised. “Just wait here.”

With an aggrieved sigh, Caton
released Amelia against her will, and Amelia sashayed toward the door. Turning
back, she tossed Caton a look that was both alluring and cruel as she
disappeared around the wall, and Caton waited only a second before following
Amelia to the doorway. Leaning against the frame, she watched Amelia climb the
last of the stairs to the third floor.

Each second ticking slowly by as
she awaited her return, Caton started to wonder if it was a new game they were
playing. Hide-and-seek. Whether it was or not, little did Amelia know if she
hid too long, Caton was going to come seeking.

Reappearing at the top of the
stairs a few minutes later, Amelia was halfway down before she noticed she had
an audience. The realization putting a smile on her face, and more swagger in
her step, she reached the second-floor landing with a flourish. “Still want
me?” she questioned.

It was so cocky, Caton wished she
could leave Amelia standing there for even a prolonged moment, but, knowing
Amelia’s arrogance ran only skin-deep, she pushed off the doorframe as if she’d
been handed the keys to the universe. Maybe she had, she considered, arms
closing around Amelia again, the same delirious elation she always felt when
she was close to Amelia permeating every fiber of her body. Unwise, dangerous
even, and utterly irresistible.

Her kiss open and honest, Amelia’s
body was more resistant than usual, hands on Caton’s sides keeping her from
coming too close. If not for their steady progress in the direction of the
bedroom, Caton might have feared the distance.

Careful steps carrying them through
the door and over to the bed, Caton’s hands moved to the button at Amelia’s
waist with single-minded intent, and when Amelia dislodged them with a
genuinely hard slap, Caton did pull back in question.

Amelia’s smile never faded, though,
the sultry upturn of her lips pairing with a slow shake of her head that warned
Caton against further attempts. Movements deliberate, she held Caton’s arms to
her sides in unspoken command, before releasing them to slide her hands inward,
cupping Caton’s breasts for an instant and moving down to the hem of her shirt,
tugging with enough force that all Caton could do was lift her arms and let
Amelia strip the garment over her head.

Tossing it carelessly aside,
Amelia’s warm fingertips returned to Caton’s skin, running the length of her
spine. Lips playing at an exposed collarbone, they dragged lower to close over
one hard nipple through silken fabric. Arching into the sensation, Caton was
obedient as Amelia unhooked her bra and tossed it somewhere in the vicinity of
her shirt, and was rewarded by the return of Amelia’s mouth, her tongue
circling the same nipple that grew impossibly erect in response. Hands
clenching at her sides, Caton fought the urge to touch for only a moment, at
last raising an uncertain hand to Amelia’s shoulder. When Amelia didn’t
admonish her, she raised her other hand to Amelia’s opposite shoulder, bracing
herself against whatever Amelia would do next.

Expeditiously relieved of the rest
of her clothing, Caton let Amelia guide her to the bed, and Amelia pulled the
covers back almost primly before settling Caton on the edge and tossing an
overstuffed pillow to the floor.

It was with near worship that
Amelia sunk to her knees before her and pressed Caton’s legs apart. Eyes
holding Caton’s, Amelia’s arms curled beneath her thighs, surprisingly gentle.
Then, Amelia wrenched Caton forward and Amelia’s mouth was on her, giving Caton
no chance to prepare, to think, to breathe, and, arms giving out, Caton fell to
her back in a graceless display.

Hot and focused, Amelia’s tongue
circled her clit, dipping lower to tease inside Caton before moving upward
again. Fingers digging at the sheet on either side of her, Caton lost all
clarity and control. Aggressively responding to Amelia’s attack, her body
controlled her. Arching into Amelia, every part of her submitted to Amelia’s
will. Frantic mutterings falling from her lips that might have been curse or
prayer, her body knew no ego or dignity. It knew only Amelia and the peak
toward which it was rapidly ascending.

Amelia had never claimed to be
merciful, though, and she showed Caton no mercy. She prolonged on purpose, and
Caton’s body suffered her merriment. Shaking with every barely-there brush of
Amelia’s tongue, Caton strove toward something Amelia kept promising and
retracting, aching for more.

Minutes grew longer. The properties
of space altered around them. Caton felt so close and so far at the same time.
It was a diabolical skill, Amelia’s ability to hold Caton right at the edge,
while preventing her from jumping in.

Then, Amelia stopped as suddenly as
she’d started, and Caton wondered if this was her true punishment. Amelia had
all the power, they both knew it, and Caton had rebelled, briefly and
unsuccessfully, but still she had, and she would pay for it. Eyes clenched shut
tight, she felt tears leak from them to slide down her temples. Left as she
was, she was overloaded with Amelia’s influence. Without Amelia releasing her,
she would never get her body back.

“Amelia, God... Baby, please...” Caton
felt her lips form the words, but they made little sense.

Barely conscious of Amelia’s
movement, Caton focused solely on survival, until Amelia’s fingers feathered
down her sternum and between her ribs. Shuddering under the caress, Caton
lurched into the touch as it dipped between her legs.

“Shhh,” Amelia breathed, hand
retreating with haste.

Frenzied, needy, Caton exhaled a
sob, certain she would die without Amelia’s touch, before Amelia’s skin grazed
her inner thighs and she was filled so unexpectedly, in such an unaccustomed
fashion, her eyes snapped wide. Mouth parting on a gasp, she watched Amelia’s
mischievous gaze warp into a satisfied expression as her body adjusted to the
alien invasion.

“Not a prude, right?” Amelia
reaffirmed.

Using what little strength she
could find, Caton pushed onto an elbow, looking down at the accoutrement at
Amelia’s hips with shock and amusement, overshadowed only by her painfully
acute arousal. “That’s cold,” she shakily replied, though it was also effective
and extraordinarily well-planned, she had to admit.

Smirk growing, Amelia rolled her
hips, burying the silicon deeper, forcing Caton’s eyes to flutter and her arm
to quake beneath her. “Sorry,” she uttered, but didn’t sound the least bit, and
certainly wasn’t acting it. “I trust it’ll warm up quickly.”

At the mesmerizing sparkle in dark
eyes, Caton gave herself over to Amelia’s inherent powers of persuasion. She
never would have expected it, but Amelia had consistently proven that Caton
shouldn’t expect or discount anything. Sinking to her back, she moved one foot
to the edge of the bed in casual consent. Not that Amelia ever needed or
awaited her permission. Caton couldn’t remember consenting to anything that
wasn’t already in progress. Not that she had ever shown herself less than
willing to meet Amelia’s every inclination.

Permission granted, Amelia pulled
out slowly, an intentionally torturous reprieve, and Caton clutched at the
wrinkled sheet as Amelia thrust into her with enough vigor to force Caton’s
eyes closed and a harsh exhalation past her lips. Then again. And again. Until
Caton forgot that there was anything between them that didn’t belong, and every
sensation became an extension of Amelia.

Everything was an extension of
Amelia.

“Do you like that?” The question
came from close by, and Caton opened her eyes to find Amelia only inches away,
hovering over her, tormentor and guardian.

“I can...” Amelia thrust, smile
widening her lips. “Take it or leave it.”

“Well, I guess, right now you’re
gonna take it,” Amelia surmised, and it was the truth entire. Now, future,
past, here, there, nowhere, Caton would take anything Amelia offered and always
want more.

When Amelia thrust again, harder,
deeper, Caton found the reserves to push up from the mattress. Meeting Amelia halfway,
their teeth knocked, but they still pushed closer, tongues tangling, until the
pain melded into the pleasure, one glorious sensation with no end and no
beginning.

Uneven exhalations fell from
Caton’s lips as she gave up the fight and fell back to the mattress. Eyes
half-open, she watched Amelia raise her fingers to her mouth, sucking them
between her lips, the vision almost as effective as the touch it foreshadowed.
When that hand moved between their bodies, determined fingers finding their target,
Caton returned instantly to the place she had stalled before Amelia’s surprise
interlude.

With one expert stroke, Amelia
carried her over the edge into such immediate euphoria, Caton cried out. Rising
from the bed in an involuntary arch, she was seized by a series of aftershocks,
drawn from her one after the other by the finesse of Amelia’s fingers, playing
her like her damn piano.

Body finally twitching in response
to the touch, Amelia withdrew her hand and carefully extricated the implement
she had so enthusiastically buried into Caton a short time before.

Forcing her eyes to open, Caton saw
another grin of satisfaction pass over Amelia’s face before she walked to the
foot of the bed, curving around the end of it, and started peeling away her
clothing with haste.

Rolling to her stomach with some
effort, Caton had to crawl across the mattress to see beyond the tall
footboard. Settling her head on her crossed arms, she determined it worth the
effort as she watched the black straps slide down Amelia’s perfect legs,
laughing at the muted thump the sex toy made when it hit the floor.

Amelia’s eyes shooting over in
surprise, her smile turned sheepish. “I just wanted to see what it was like,”
she stated quietly.

“And?” Caton asked as Amelia
returned to her, a light sheen of perspiration polishing her flawless skin.

“Overrated.” Amelia shrugged.

“Where are you reading these
ratings?” Caton countered, and Amelia laughed as she climbed onto the bed.
Swiveling to lay against Caton’s side, her warm hand falling to the small of
Caton’s back, she pressed a kiss against Caton’s shoulder.

Feeling the immediate upsurge of
the other thing, the thing that wasn’t just sex, Caton fought the swell. It was
these moments, Amelia’s needless, impetuous affection, which threatened to undo
her.

“Should I have asked?” Amelia
questioned, propping her head on her free hand.

Fleetingly, Caton wondered once
again what she wouldn’t let Amelia do to her, with or without asking, and again
came up with nothing. “Oh, where would the fun have been in that?” she
returned.

“So, I didn’t hurt you?” Amelia
asked carefully, and Caton saw a flicker of doubt. It was the first time Amelia
hadn’t looked entirely confident all day.

“You didn’t hurt me,” she breathed.

Desire battling lethargy, she was
moved by the dominant force, lifting her head from its comfortable position to
meet Amelia’s lips, which moved against hers in a gentle caress.

Amelia’s hand swept down her back,
making every invisible hair along the length of Caton’s spine stand at
attention. When it breached the swell of Caton’s hip, skating inward, Caton
pulled away, casting a disbelieving look at Amelia, but Amelia only smiled as
her touch trailed between Caton’s thighs, determined fingers moving over
hypersensitive flesh.

“Better?” Amelia asked when Caton
gave into the soft play of Amelia’s hand, despite the spasms that rocked her
body with each fleeting touch.

“Better,” she sighed.

When Amelia kissed her again, just
a tease of lips and tongue, Caton felt some strength return. Pressing a strong
shoulder, she flattened Amelia against the mattress, ambushing her with a kiss
that demanded more, delighting when Amelia whimpered and squirmed beneath her.

 Trying to drink her fill, Caton
realized she had no limit. She could spend a lifetime at Amelia’s lips and
still feel starved for their taste.

At last pushing away, it was Amelia
who clung, and Caton struggled against her possessive embrace to get upright.
Edging her knee beneath Amelia’s thigh, she palmed a smooth hip, turning Amelia
enough to maneuver closer, and heard the anticipatory hitch of Amelia’s breath.