Page 61 of Catch and Cradle
She does exactly what I ask, and I can’t stop myself from gripping the back of her head as my hips thrust up to meet her tongue.
“That’s so good. Now do it a little harder.” She increases the pressure and moans against me when I cry out.
“Now fuck me with two of your fingers while you keep licking me just like that.”
I throw my head back and groan when she starts hitting just the right spot inside me. The pressure of her fingers is getting me closer and closer to letting go.
“Now flick your tongue back and forth across my clit. Harder. Yes. Just like that. Oh fuck, just like that. Keep fucking me, Hope.”
The way her actions follow my words is addictive. I can’t stop. I can’t stop any of this, and I don’t want to.
“I’m gonna come for you. I’m gonna come in your mouth.”
She mutters something low and guttural I can’t make out and then clamps her free hand down on the underside of my thigh. Her nails dig into my skin, and the pain feels so good. Too good. I can’t hold out.
“Fuck me harder. Fuck me as hard as you can.”
She’s slamming into me now, thrusting again and again as her tongue criss-crosses over my clit, every stroke tightening something deep inside me.
“I’m going to...to...”
My body arches so hard I fly forward until I’m sitting with my hands still tangled in her hair. Bright white light streaks the backs of my lids as I squeeze my eyes shut to shudder and gasp my way through the release. For a few seconds, I can’t hear anything. I can barely feel her fingers still working me, making the pleasure roll through me in wave after wave. I’m floating somewhere beyond reality until I fall back on the bed and come crashing into myself.
When Hope lays down beside me, I’m shaking. She covers my body with hers and lays her head on my chest without saying a word.
I don’t need words. I just need this. I just need her.
14
Becca
“So why this song?”
Hope runs one of her fingertips along the tattoo on my upper back. We’re both sitting on my bed, her kneeling behind me while she braids my hair. I have my cardigan spread over my lap, and she’s wearing her hoodie with the zipper undone, but other than that, we’re still naked. It must be almost two in the morning, but I’m not tired yet.
I can’t be tired yet. If I’m tired, the night will end, and I don’t want to think about what will happen when it does.
“I’ve been a Ben Howard fan for a really long time,” I answer, “and that song meant a lot to me when I was a teenager. It still does.”
“It fits you. You do keep your head up and your heart strong.” A soft, tingly feeling spreads along my scalp as she reaches for more pieces of hair to braid. “You always seem so strong. I noticed that about you from the start.”
“I guess I try to be. I don’t know if I always succeed.”
She makes a skeptical sound as she combs her fingers through a tangle. “What did the song mean to you in high school?”
“It was...hard growing up the way I did.”
I don’t know how to go on. I don’t have words for that kind of loneliness, that kind of doubt about myself. Those feelings carved out a hole in me I’m not sure I’ll ever fill.
“I think I mentioned it before, but my mom was really...in and out,” I begin. “They finally got divorced when I was thirteen, but they didn’t really seem married for a long time before that. I don’t know if they ever really loved each other. I guess they must have, at some point, but I’m not sure.”
Hope traces my tattoo again. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “I guess I got used to it, and it wasn’t that bad. Other people have it worse. We didn’t have much, but I always had a house and food to eat. After the divorce, my dad moved us in with his sister. I already stayed with her a lot when he was away working, but we were never close. Her house never felt like home, even after I didn’t have anywhere else to call home.”
“That’s so sad. I can’t imagine not being able to feel at home in the place you live, especially when you were so young.”
I pick at a patch of pilled fabric on my cardigan. “I feel like I’m whining. We can talk about something else.”