The Last Dance - Dalia Craig
Excerpt
Her casual tone didn’t fool me for a minute. Helena betrayed both her youth and naivety by trying to shock me, only she’d picked the wrong person. I didn’t shock easily, and kissing other women came naturally to me along with many other activities. I’d happily demonstrate all the ways I wanted to make love to her if she gave me the opportunity. Although I doubted that she would, or that she’d really know what to do if the situation arose. I sighed deeply, picturing Helena naked, reclining on a white satin quilt, ready and waiting for me to teach her everything I knew about love between women. I imagined us making love until, sated from multiple orgasms, we slipped into a deep sleep, then waking to morning sunlight and starting all over again.
Hell! What was I thinking? We were just strangers, thrown together at a party neither of us had wanted to attend, after tonight we would go our separate ways and probably never meet again.
The sound of music and laughter drifted through the night air, mingling with the gentle swish of water from the nearby fountain.
“Would you like a drink?” Helena produced a champagne bottle from somewhere behind her. “Although I’ve only got one glass… I wasn’t expecting company, maybe we could share?”
“Yes, I’d love some.” I smiled, while cursing myself for not having had the foresight to bring something with me. “Or, if you like, I could run back to the house and fetch another glass and maybe some food?”
“Please don’t go.” Helena placed one hand on my arm, her fingers pressing into my flesh as if she was terrified of being alone. “I’m happy to share if you are, and I’m not hungry.”
Neither was I, for food, but Helena was a different matter. If given the chance I’d happily feast upon her delectable body all night.
“Allow me.” I took the bottle of Veuve Clicquot from her, popped the cork and carefully poured the white froth into the waiting flute. A vision of Helena climaxing onto my tongue sent goose bumps racing up my neck and my pussy clenched with need. I put the bottle down on the step beside me, and dug my fingernails into my palms to stop myself from reaching for her there and then.
We shared the whole bottle sip and sip about then Helena produced another bottle from the same hiding place and by the time we’d finished the second one both of us were in very high spirits.
The unmistakable strains of Unchained Melody reached my ears. My favorite song since I’d heard it sung by Gene Vincent a couple of years earlier. The plaintive notes of the orchestra seemed to linger on the breeze, and the lyrics played in my head calling me to take Helena into my arms. Needing no better excuse to make it happen, I stood and held out my hand. “Will you dance with me?”
“Yes.” She moved easily into my arms, her body fitted against mine like two halves of a shell. “I love this song,” she murmured dreamily. Her hot breath fanned my neck as we swayed to the hauntingly evocative music barely moving from the spot. Several changes of music later, my hands dropped down to cup her ass and ease her into my body.
Helena reacted positively by grinding her pelvis against mine and I smothered her gasp of pleasure with my lips. She tasted so sweet, like a mixture of honey and champagne.
The pounding beat of my pulse drowned out all other sound. I wanted Helena more than I’d ever wanted anybody in my whole life.
Could I?
Would she?
If I didn’t try I would never know, and I only had tonight and tomorrow. Come Monday she’d be gone, out of my life and my arms forever.