Best Lesbian Romance 2014 (24 page)

“Okay, Miss Thing,” Eboni growls to herself, “I'm coming for
you
next.”

Behind the wheel of her black Buick Electra 225, Eboni waits down the street from Boss Charlie's favorite hangout. Eventually the gangster and his old lady emerge, pausing to share an awkward kiss before leaving in separate cars. Cursing, Eboni tails Fiona to a modest house in a modest neighborhood. She settles in for what she expects will be a boring stakeout.

After twenty minutes of surveillance, Eboni lowers her binoculars just long enough to switch out the 8-track in the dash. When she looks back, Fiona is gone.

“Where the hell did she go?” Eboni jumps at a heavy tap on the passenger window.

“You wanna turn down the Bobby Womack?” Fiona asks sarcastically, flipping her long hair and smirking through the window at Eboni's astonished face. “People in this neighborhood are trying to sleep.” Her eyes sparkle under the bright
streetlamps, Eboni notices, reluctantly. “So…you gonna open the door?”

“How did you…damn.” It's unlike Eboni Slicke to be at a loss for words. She'd love nothing more than to lecture this Barbie doll on everything from African decolonization to the war in Vietnam. Instead, she unlocks the door, shaking her head. “There's a warrant out for you, girlie.”

“Sure there is.” Fiona sinks into the passenger seat, runs her hands over the interior. “Deuce and a quarter. Nice.”

Eboni raises an eyebrow. “What, you used to date a brother?”

Fiona sits back, making herself comfortable. “I used to date a lot of people.”

“And now you date Boss Charlie. Were you born with a silver spoon in your mouth, then to make Daddy mad you ran off with a bunch of convicts or joined the Moonies or became a communist or something?”

“Smart
and
funny! I like that.”

Eboni bristles. “What do you want?”

“Listen to me, Slicke.” The smile falls away and Fiona leans closer, her voice lowering when she murmurs, “If you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of Boss Charlie's hair…or you'll be sorry.”

“That's the second time you've threatened me. I could take you in for that alone.”

Fiona's cocky grin returns. “I'd like to see you try—'specially since you're supposed to be on desk duty. What would your captain think?”

“How did—damn it.” Eboni shakes her head, wondering which of the idiots down at the station let that precious information loose out on the street. “Whatever. I'm done playing for tonight. Now get the fuck out.”

“Yes ma'am.” Fiona gives a little salute before stepping out of the car. “Hope to…play with you again soon, Detective Slicke.”

“Bitch.” Eboni guns the 3.5L, but she stays to watch Fiona sashay back into the house before she pulls away.

A week of tailing Boss Charlie's new moll around the city gets Eboni nowhere. Desperate for a lead, she heads back to Fiona's house. The captain will have Eboni's badge if she's caught breaking and entering, but she's too close to stop now.

She's elbow-deep in Fiona's underwear drawer when she hears keys in the front door. She tiptoes into the bedroom closet, hiding behind long hippy dresses and bell bottoms as voices come from the entryway.

“C'mon, Fiona. How long you gonna hold out on me?” It's Boss Charlie, sounding well annoyed. “I promote you out of the ranks, make you my second, and for what? So you can give me blue balls?”

Fiona lets go an exaggerated sigh. “Not tonight, Charlie.”

Good,
Eboni thinks, before she catches herself, wondering,
What do I care who she fucks?

“I need to make some calls about the new shipment tomorrow. Good night, Charlie.” The door slams shut, Fiona makes a beeline for the bathroom and Eboni sees her chance to split—but she doesn't budge. She's never been afraid of anyone, least of all a smartass hoodlum white girl. So why she's cowering in the closet, she doesn't know. The questions racing in her head come to a screeching halt when Fiona trudges into the bedroom completely naked.

Eboni freezes, moving only her eyes as she peers through the closet door slats. She watches Fiona brush her long hair, rub night cream on her face, down her neck, between her breasts.
Eboni bites her lip, reminding herself why she's here, who Fiona is…
what
she is. That it's all in a day's work, sneaking into this outlaw's house, fingering her unmentionables and watching her slowly, slowly run long fingers across naked skin while standing in front of a full-length mirror. Eboni wants to punch herself; she squints to get a better look instead.

Fiona must be about five-ten, Eboni decides, remembering those slim, strong arms holding her tightly the first time they met. So she's half an inch taller, but Eboni has a bigger rack. The nipples are roughly the same size as Eboni's, though lighter in color. They harden as Fiona massages her breasts, her head thrown back, her eyes closed. Eboni leans closer for a better look, in case she misses something important…for the case. She might have to add to her report that Fiona likes to smooth lotion all over her naked body at bedtime. The D.A. might have to know that the hair between Fiona's legs is thicker and curlier than that on her head. Eboni might need to testify on the stand how sinuously Fiona slides onto her bed with her hands between her legs.

It's a bit surreal, Eboni realizes, to be a police detective hiding in the closet of a suspect that she's investigating, watching that suspect touch herself. Even more surreal, Eboni can't help wishing she could see more. From her position she can only view Fiona in profile: one fluttering eyelid, a tightly squeezed breast, one long, tanned thigh.

“Fuck.”

Eboni winces before she realizes it wasn't her voice, though it could have been, as hot as she's getting just watching Fiona pull at her nipples and slide shaking hands over her belly. View obscured, Eboni can only imagine the rest; how swollen and moist Fiona's vulva is…if her clitoris is well-hooded or exposed and slick…how many fingers she's using to fill her vagina.

“Yes,” Fiona continues, “fuck me.”

Eboni wants to cross her legs. No room for that. Only room in her head, imagining what Fiona would look like in front of her, spread apart and hard and wet, what she would smell like… what she would taste like.

The detective is so busy imagining that she nearly misses Fiona climaxing with a squealed, “Oh…Eboni!”

Soon after, the bedside light goes off, and Fiona's sighs turn to the soft purrs of sleep. It takes some time, but Eboni eventually crawls out of the closet, out of the bedroom and out of the house.

After a reckless drive home, Eboni stumbles to her bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes on the way, hand sliding into her panties as soon as she hits the bed. She's mortified to find herself still wet, even more so to find that she's picturing Fiona's soft breasts and tight ass as she strokes herself. On her knees, thighs spread, aching nipples crushed to the sheets, Eboni fucks herself and can almost picture that luscious bitch kneeling underneath her, mouth open and buried between her legs.

When she allows herself to replay Fiona's last words, Eboni comes like a freight train.

For the first time since getting promoted to detective, Eboni Slicke is nose-deep in paperwork and not complaining about it. Something's going down tonight, and she will be damned if she's not there when it does. If going through every last report on this case will give her a clue, so be it. And if fixating on the job keeps her mind off last night's activities, even better.

She's so engrossed in her work that she barely takes notice of an unfamiliar messenger delivering a plainly wrapped package. Eboni rips it open absentmindedly, only noticing when she's down to the box and tissue paper that whatever is inside is moving.

It's not a bomb. She's had enough experience with nut cases in the city to know that. Whatever it is can't be good, and if she wasn't so distracted lately she'd never have opened an unmarked package by herself. Too late for gloves, her prints are all over it now. Carefully, she pushes aside the mass of tissue paper and peers inside.

“Fuck me.” Eboni stares at the box for a minute until the blood runs back into her face and she can breathe. When she's collected herself, she removes the attached note card and reads:

          
Miss Slicke,

          
I hope this note finds you well, and that you'll heed my warning about the Boss. Give up and you'll have nothing to worry your pretty little head about.

          
Yours,
F

          
P.S. After your little Peeping Tom stint last night, I thought you could use this.

Eboni reads the note a third time before crumpling it and shoving the box, tissues and still-humming vibrator into her bottom desk drawer.

“That's it,” the detective growls to herself, “I'm taking these suckas out tonight.”

Eboni knows someone's broken into her place as soon as she steps out of the shower. She would be impressed if she wasn't so pissed off. Ignoring her robe, she walks right into her bedroom
and heads for her dresser. As expected, the sight of her beautiful naked blackness elicits a complimentary whistle.

“You must have a death wish coming here,” Eboni murmurs, her back to the intruder but her defenses high. Slowly she opens her underwear drawer and feels around for the—

“You looking for this?” The sound of her .38 cocking sends Eboni spinning around, and for the second time in a week she's face-to-face with Fiona holding her own gun on her. Fiona smiles, but at least has the decency to blush as her eyes fall over Eboni's body.

“It's only fair,” Fiona explains, though she has to clear her throat first. “Since you broke into my place last night. That wasn't very nice, Detective. Wasn't very legal, either.”

“What do you know about legal?”

“What do you know about
me,
Slicke?”

“You're a criminal. That's all I need to know.”

“You know more than that. You know where I live…where I hang out…and you know what I sound like when I come…don't you?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Eboni mumbles, cocky as ever, even though her pulse quickens and her stomach flutters.

“Did you like that little show of mine last night?” Fiona comes closer, gun still trained on her target. “I bet you did. I bet you thought it was real, didn't you?”

Eboni lets her eyes go soft, slouches a little. “So, you didn't really…”

Something changes in Fiona's demeanor. She points the gun at the floor, comes a few steps closer. “Well, maybe I did and maybe I didn't. Maybe I liked you watching me.” A little closer, and Eboni puts on her best come-hither smile.

“Maybe I liked watching,” purrs the detective.

Fiona licks her lips and takes another step, giving Eboni the chance to kick the gun deftly out of her hand. “Okay, white girl. Let's dance.”

Five minutes later, the crib is wrecked and both ladies are bruised and exhausted. Eboni refuses to give in, but she's running out of steam, so goes for the easy target—Fiona's long hair.

“Ow! No fair!”

“Shut up,” Eboni roars as she wrestles Fiona by her hair and pins her to the ground. “It's over. Tell me why you're here.”

Fiona laughs as she catches her breath, continuing to struggle, but clearly exhausted. “I'm here to tell you to get out of town. Right now.”

“Why?”

“Because Boss Charlie sent me here to get rid of you.”

Eboni is too pleased to finally have something to take to the D.A. to even bother feeling frightened. “What's stopping you?”

“You on top of me.”

Eboni looks down at her nakedness and blushes, hoping to god that Fiona hasn't noticed that she has been horny as hell since they started fighting. By the way Fiona's eyes slide down to between her legs, yeah, she knows.

“Aw, hell.” Eboni sits back, relieving the pressure on Fiona's wrists, but she doesn't let go, not even when Fiona arches upward, pressing her face between Eboni's breasts, her thigh between Eboni's legs.

“Tell me something, Detective.” Fiona smiles shyly as she nudges Eboni's left breast with her nose, rubbing her swollen lips around the nipple until Eboni gasps her approval. “Do you like vanilla?”

“I'm starting to.” Eboni tries to hold back a moan when she feels a hot open mouth on her nipples and possessive hands on her ass. But when Fiona brushes nervous hands over Eboni's
face, touches her full lips and whispers “what a fine-ass sistah,” Eboni gives in. She kisses Fiona hard, impatiently, riled up by the fighting and the flirting. Thankfully Fiona doesn't say
I told you so.
She's too busy sucking Eboni's tongue into her mouth to talk, too busy squeezing Eboni's full breasts to fight, too busy grinding herself against Eboni's crotch to run away.

Standing quickly to pull her dress over her head, Fiona leans in, giving Eboni her belly to kiss, her ass to knead, her body to possess. Eboni starts with one breast, cupping it possessively as she licks circles over the sensitive nipple. When she adds a bit of teeth, Fiona squeals and yanks gracelessly on her panties. Eboni pulls them down slowly so she can revel at the damp spot on the crotch. She pulls Fiona to her, rubbing her nose and lips over the curly pubic hair, almost as curly as hers. Just a bit closer, and she's kissing Fiona's lips, licking at the swollen labia until Fiona growls and pulls away, breathing hard.