No Strings Attached (The Pink Bean Series Book 1) (24 page)

“Who? You? Who is still such a long way away from forty?” She wrapped her arms around Robin’s slick-skinned waist. “Anyway, I’m about to give you something much better than a heart attack.”

Robin turned around in her embrace, and their lips locked. Micky ran her fingers over Robin’s soaped-up back, enjoying the smooth feel of it on her fingertips. She really did want to do nothing else than this all weekend long.

“Obviously I need to wash you first,” Robin said when their lips broke apart. “Come on. Hands above your head. Legs wide. I need to get into every nook and cranny.”

Micky shook her head. “You are so bossy, do you know that?”

Robin tipped her head to the side. “I might have heard that before.”

“Here’s the deal,” Micky said. “You can wash me all you want, but after that, I’m the boss. My house, my rules.” Something took root in her stomach. Something indefinable but incredibly arousing.

“We’ll see.” Robin smiled, then turned to squirt some soap into the palm of her hands. She rubbed her hands together, then applied the soap to Micky’s skin, starting with her belly and working her way up to her breasts without wasting any time.

Robin’s hands fluttered over her shoulders and her back next, but they kept coming back to Micky’s breasts, as though drawn to them by an invisible, irresistible force.

“I think my breasts are clean now,” Micky whispered, apparently no longer able to use her full voice.

Robin’s eyes found hers, while her fingers locked onto Micky’s nipples. She didn’t say anything and instead, just intensified her grip and squeezed tight.

“Ow,” Micky yelped.

Robin lifted her eyebrows. “That’s what you get for giving me lip.” Her hands slickly meandered away from Micky’s breasts and found her buttocks, then she pulled Micky closer, their skin meeting in a wet, soapy embrace.
So many new thrills
. The sensation was exquisite. The next thing she knew, Robin pushed her backward against the glass shower wall and kneeled in front of her. She soaped up Micky’s legs and thighs, her slender fingers skimming her skin, leaving Micky wet inside and out.

“That should do it.” Robin took a step back and admired her handiwork, then reached for the showerhead and let the water rain down Micky’s shoulders. Her free hand followed the direction of the water, dedicating a lot of time to her breasts again, and all the while, Micky’s heartbeat kept accelerating, because this was quite possibly the most arousing experience of her life.

Robin then lowered the showerhead to rinse Micky’s legs, only to turn its nozzle upside down at the apex of Micky’s thighs and unleash its strong jet of water on her clit. Micky’s muscles stiffened. She had let the showerhead linger in places before, where its relentless stream felt good, and briefly luxuriated in the short, mild sort of pleasure it provided—more a fleeting tingle passing through her than anything else—but she’d never deliberately aimed it there with the sole purpose of coming. Somehow, that had always seemed too far a possibility, too much like something someone like Micky didn’t do.

But here she stood, and oh, the jets of water seemed to hit the spot so much more precisely than when she handled the showerhead herself. Robin’s presence had a lot to do with that. That intense gleam she’d had in her eyes when she was running her hands all over Micky, never wavering, always so clear in its intent. When Micky looked in Robin’s eyes there was never any doubt about how much Robin wanted her. She made Micky feel like the most desirable woman on the face of the earth. And all of that while Micky had the supreme privilege of ogling Robin’s firm, strong body. She could stare at that subtle outline of abs all day long, let her fingers roam over that shoulder line for hours on end.

Oh Christ, Micky felt her legs go a little weak at the knees. The water massaged her clit in the most direct, exquisite way, and soon Micky started feeling the familiar heat claw its way up from deep within her core. Could some water pointed in the right direction really do that to her? Or was this all Robin once again?

The heat was about to hit the surface of her skin when Robin plunged a finger deep inside of Micky. The jet kept blasting, and Robin’s finger curled, and pressed, and delved, and Micky was about to lose her mind. There was something about the combination of the water hitting her with full force and the way Robin was fucking her that made for the strangest, most unstoppable sensation inside of her. Micky was familiar with the glorious climaxes Robin had given her thus far, but this was different. The approaching orgasm felt more inevitable, more profound, and coming from a place so deep inside her, it made Micky’s legs tremble.

Then it overtook her, and Micky’s mind went pitch-black while her muscles spasmed and the red hot tingle spread through her flesh and quaked its way through her every fiber and… what the hell? As she came to, Micky could swear she felt a hot trickle of water run down her inner thighs that didn’t spout from the showerhead. In fact, Robin had pointed the shower away from her body, and yet Micky felt something leaking from inside of her. She cast her eyes down in amazement, but there was nothing to see, really, because she was standing in the shower and everything around her was wet anyway.

Robin refitted the showerhead in its hook and wrapped her arms around Micky. “Are you okay?” she asked, her tone a little high-pitched.

“Yeah.” Micky was panting, still coming down from that strange but intensely pleasing climax. “I just, I don’t know, felt something I’ve never felt before.”

“What?” Robin insisted.

“Like trickle after trickle of fluid coming out of me while I came.”

Robin drew her lips into a small smile. She kissed Micky on the cheek. “You squirted, babe. That’s pretty amazing and a whole lot of sexy.”

“It felt great but also, well, a little confusing,” Micky admitted.

Robin nodded. “The showerhead did that to you, huh? Can’t wait to see how you react to my vibrator.” Robin kissed her full on the lips, then trailed her mouth to Micky’s ear. “Your lesbian sexual awakening is such a massive turn on for me,” she said.

✶ ✶ ✶

After toweling each other dry, Micky still a little dazed because of what happened in the shower, they lay in bed, and she remembered what she’d said to Robin earlier. She was going to be the boss. What had she even meant by that? It had just been an instinctive reaction to how Robin always was. So confident, so self-assured in her every move and word—not a small part of Micky’s attraction to her. And now what? Was she supposed to tie Robin’s wrists to the bedposts with a scarf hastily dug up from a drawer? She pushed all thoughts of Robin’s bound wrists, the notion of it causing a slight throb between her legs nonetheless, to the back of her mind, toppled onto her side, and ran a finger over Robin’s taut stomach.

“Would you really stay in Sydney for me?” she asked. Because long after Robin had fallen asleep, a gentle alcohol-induced purr escaping from her lips as she breathed, Micky had considered Robin’s words.

“Depends,” Robin replied, “on what that finger of yours does next.” A smirk split her lips.

Micky didn’t have that much experience with falling in love, but there was no doubt they were in the depths of that
phase
she read about in every women’s magazine. The early stages of a brand new relationship, where love and lust blended into an ever-present compulsion to touch each other, to please each other, to be with each other every second of the day.

“Ah, so it’s a sex thing,” Micky said, pretending to be offended.

“As I said before, you’re my insatiable vixen, my sexy cougar. All jokes aside, Micky, I love your voracious hunger for me. I love that how much you want me is so visible on your face. Truth be told, I love that I’m your first woman, that I’m the one who makes you feel this way.” She followed up with a giggle. “And I especially love that you squirted for me.”

Micky shook her head. She didn’t say anything. She figured that anything she’d say next would just elicit more innuendo and back talk from Robin. And who was she kidding, anyway? She wanted her finger to caress every inch of Robin’s skin, wanted to make it do what Robin’s finger had done to her earlier. She traced it up to Robin’s breasts, up to her nipples, and lightly skated the tip of her index finger over them. Oh, Micky knew exactly what to do to shut Robin up—and she would be plenty bossy in her own way, and torture Robin in the most delicious way in the process.

Micky found Robin’s gaze as her finger applied the lightest of pressure. The only flaw in the plan that she’d just hatched to drive Robin insane with lust ever so slowly was that merely touching Robin always ignited a whole slew of lustful processes inside of herself. Despite the climax she’d just had in the shower, Micky’s clit began to pulse in tune with her heartbeat again, rapid and zestful. Come to think of it, she really was Robin’s insatiable vixen, although, truly, that was just one part of it. Undeniable attraction had brought them together, even after deciding they weren’t suited for each other, but Micky was much more than this body filled with desire she lived in.

She was an out lesbian now.

Micky traced her finger to Robin’s other breast, catching a drop of water she’d missed when she’d dried her off. She circled Robin’s nipple until it rose up for her as though wanting to meet her finger. Micky leaned over and pecked it lightly, then brushed her tongue against it, before letting it slip between her lips gingerly. Robin was already starting to moan and grind. Micky kissed her way to Robin’s other nipple and lavished it with the gentle attention of her tongue and lips. Her finger wandered down, encircling Robin’s belly button and drawing an invisible line above her pubic hair.

“Micky, come on,” Robin gasped. She was always so impatient. Micky was almost certain she’d be grabbing her hand in the next few seconds and would start pushing it down. But Micky wanted to take advantage of the fact that they had all day, all weekend, to do this. She wanted for the image of Robin’s immaculate skin and shapely form to be etched on the back of her eyelids by the time she left for work on Monday. Because now that Micky was finally able to admit to herself that this was what she’d wanted for the longest time, she wanted everything all the time, and if she couldn’t be with Robin physically, she would at least be thinking about her, and the way she lay there right now, her legs spreading already.

Micky peppered kisses on Robin’s belly, her lips barely touching Robin’s skin, not going any lower than the top of the triangle of her pubic hair.

“Oh, Micky, I want you,” Robin moaned.

As her confidence as a lover had grown, Micky found herself better able to withstand Robin’s pleas to fuck her, and today especially, Micky took great pleasure in Robin’s begging tone. It illustrated how much Robin wanted her, and really, Micky could never get enough of that.

“Oh, screw it,” Robin said and pushed herself up. She drew her legs up and toppled onto her knees. Before Micky had the chance to find her bearings—and berate Robin for her extreme lack of patience—Robin was pulling Micky toward her, and automatically, Micky mirrored her position. She sat across from Robin on her knees, her legs spread, their breasts touching.

“I need you now,” Robin said.

Micky shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Let’s see what you have to say about that after I do this.” Robin brought her hand in between Micky’s legs and, while she looked her in the eye, slipped two fingers inside.

Micky’s breath hitched in her throat.
Always so bossy
, she thought, until she stopped thinking.

“Fuck me, babe,” Robin pleaded. “Fuck me while I fuck you.”

And Micky did. She slid two fingers into Robin’s wetness, and everything was washed away by a hurricane of lust raging through her flesh. Again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The next Tuesday night, Micky drove Robin to her mother’s house in Mosman. Not only because she’d had enough of her mother’s relentless and, truth be told, very uncharacteristic phone calls asking if Micky had gone back to men yet. Gina was not usually caustic like that. Micky suspected that the reason she was acting out, was because, to her, Micky being in love with a woman was this big, new, unknown entity in her life. She needed to be able to put a face to the name. She needed to meet Robin. Moreover, Micky was proud to be able to introduce Robin as her partner. So it was with confidence more than with trepidation that she parked her car on the driveway of her mother’s house.

“It’s funny,” Robin said before they got out of the car, “but this could so easily be a street in the suburb where I grew up.”

Micky knew Robin well enough already to know that, even if she was nervous, she would never show it. She had prepped her the night before, telling her all about Gina, that she would be charm personified—no doubt about that—but her true feelings about Robin would reveal themselves during the lulls in conversation, those awkward pauses when she would take a second to breathe and relax. Micky would watch her mother like a hawk. But, in the end, as they walked to the back door, Micky wasn’t too worried. She knew her mother and she knew Robin.

“Darling,” Gina said as they walked into the door. She hugged Micky much more ferociously than she would on any other given day. Perhaps to postpone a little while longer the moment where she would shake hands with her daughter’s lover and irreversibly make her acquaintance. Micky could speculate all she wanted, but she would never truly know what went on in her mother’s head.

“And you must be Robin.” Gina extended her hand.

“Very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Ferro,” Robin said, sounding very official.

“Please, call me Gina.” They shook hands, making this introduction seem more like the closing of a business deal.

Gina ushered them into the lounge and poured them coffee. She’d brought out the fancy china, which Micky took as a good sign. Then it dawned on Micky that, perhaps, Gina was as nervous about this as she and Robin were. After all, she’d only ever met one of Micky’s significant others, and that was twenty years ago. While making this change in her life, Micky had asked her loved ones to change as well. Yet, the guilt she’d carried around for years, first for not being able to just take the leap and admit it, then for seeing another woman behind her family’s back, had started to subside. The skin Micky found herself in these days fit her so much better, and no matter how awkward these first introductory conversations always were, Micky was a new and improved version of herself. Surely her mother could see that.