After Happily Ever Afte- Astrid Ohletz Page 0,32

all space between them.

Natalya groaned in surprise and delight. She loved it when Alison took the initiative. Oh, Natalya always loved flinging Alison down and taking her until her body was a series of shaking, whimpering trembles. But this, this burning need, was something else. It undid her every time.

She was propelled into their bedroom, their bedroom—even after all this time, the shock of that still took adjustment. Natalya had been alone for so long that negotiating things like shared beds, bathrooms, and kitchens still sometimes made her itch with discomfort.

When Alison nudged open the door to their bedroom, Natalya pulled away, her eyes widening.

Red petals. On the floor. On the sheets. The music, playing on an iPod in the corner, was a string duet. Two instruments seemed to be dancing around each other, feeling each other out, flirting, seducing. Philip Glass’s Double Concerto for Violin, Cello and Orchestra, she noted. Duet No. 2. How apt: a cellist and a violinist. She glanced at Alison who gave her a cheeky grin.

Alison’s lips were back on Natalya’s, claiming her. That magical tongue was doing things to her that were positively obscene. An approving gasp worked its way from her throat. Natalya’s eyes fluttered closed and she felt her outer clothes wrenched down her body with desperation. There was little skill; it was pure need.

It brought her back to that day.

Their first time together. The real first time. Not the earlier time she’d allowed Alison to have a taste of her, a small piece as a farewell because the woman’s soft eyes had pleaded for it and Natalya couldn’t deny her, despite knowing it was a terrible idea. Risky. She’d held back to protect herself, but it hadn’t entirely worked. She’d still given far more than she’d intended. Not all, but more. And she’d thought of little else since.

Natalya had held out for a year. Finally she had returned one night and, heart hammering in her chest, had asked Alison to return with her to Europe. It was a pivotal moment. For the first time in her entire life—a life spent toying with and controlling others—she’d kissed someone. On the lips.

It had been terrifying. And intoxicating.

Afterwards, they’d barely gotten back to Alison’s apartment before they’d begun tearing clothes off each other. And then… She swallowed at the memory of a time that had left her so vulnerable she could scarcely breathe.

Alison, hair still wet from the light rain that night, had pushed her down, eyes intense and dark, and smoothed her hands all over her, mapping her naked body with a joy that seemed to come from knowing Natalya was hers. She’d touched her. All of her. For an eternity. Because she could. Because Natalya had allowed her to, as her equal.

Natalya had watched the swaying of her pale, bare breasts, revelled in the softness of her skin, as Alison’s burning fingertips teased and touched all around where she most wanted them.

Natalya hadn’t asked for more, or for anything, because she’d wanted Alison to take her any way she wanted. It was the most profound and hardest gift she had ever given anyone. Natalya’s fingers had curled and retracted, fighting her fierce need to have control, to reclaim her power on that confronting, thrilling, terrifying first night.

Her jaw had tightened each time her body quivered—betraying its weakness of desiring to bend to the will of another. The apex predator side of her didn’t want to want this. But, as she’d discovered after roaming Europe alone, not having this was far worse than admitting to needing it.

Natalya’s skin and muscles had shone from perspiration in her efforts not to show how hard it was to be so laid bare. Beneath Alison’s fervent explorations, and in those eyes watching her so intently, lay a well of desire. This was all Alison had wanted in order to be happy.

Even if the fight to surrender killed her, Natalya wanted to give her this night.

Alison’s fingers had stroked her muscles, explored her dips and lines, teased her nipples and skidded over her ribs, before worshipping the planes from her hips down. She had laid heated lips upon her most intimate flesh, tasting her with relish. She’d brought Natalya to the edge over and over but never let her cross. Instead, those taunting lips had rushed back up to Natalya’s and murmured against her mouth how much she loved this. How often she had fantasised about doing this, exactly this, for so long. How having Natalya, this way,