Training Days (28 page)

Ally stopped as abruptly as she’d started, interrupted by the waiter who’d just arrived with their tapas selection.

They sat in silence while the waiter pulled up another little table hard to theirs and painstakingly organized the ten dishes around the jug of sangria.

Morgan took a long look at the feast, then an even longer look at Ally. “Would you like to stay here and have this, or would you prefer room service?”

Ally also looked at the food before settling her gaze on Morgan. Morgan didn’t know which of them received the hungrier stare. “Why don’t we ask them to package it up? Then we can have this . . . in our room.”

Ally shivered a little as she and Morgan stood together in the elevator. They were on their way to the fifth floor. To her room, in her hotel, at her request. “It’s closer,” she had said as they finally exited the restaurant, each toting a bag containing five foil-wrapped packages. It actually wasn’t closer at all. But if Morgan knew that she didn’t argue, instead just smiling and telling Ally to “lead the way.” Maybe she’d sensed her need to be in surrounds that were just a little bit familiar while she plunged into otherwise unknown territory.

Or maybe she was just lost.

“Are you cold?” Morgan asked her now, obviously having seen her shiver.

“A little.” Ally cast a glance to the digital control panel as she spoke the lie. She was a lot of things right now. But cold was not one of them. Especially not now that Morgan had moved to stand a little closer. Close enough she could feel her body heat. Level four. One more to go. She shivered again as the digital display changed and the elevator ground to a halt on the fifth floor. This time a sudden rush of nerves was the primary cause. “Here we are,” she squeaked, stepping out and heading quickly in the direction of her door. Twice the electronic entry system flashed red when she swiped her card. “I’m not very good at this tonight.” She felt the heat of embarrassment spread up her neck as she handed the card to Morgan. “You try.”

Morgan was much more successful and once inside she slotted the card into the system that activated the electrics. “Nice room,” she said as she scanned the space. “Heaps better than my hotel.” She lifted her bag of tapas a little and nodded to the long, lowlying wall unit that housed the mini bar and fridge. “Shall I put this over there?”

“Please.” Ally handed Morgan her own bag and then just stood near the door, awkward, knowing she should do something. But what?

Offer the woman a drink
, her brain suggested.

“Err . . . can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure.”

Ally made a dash for the mini bar and squatted in front of it. She reached inside the fridge and pulled out a bottle of vodka and a bottle of cranberry juice. Both had previously been opened and some of the contents consumed. The vodka she’d bought at the airport in Milan. The cranberry was from the first supermarket she’d found after arriving in Barcelona. Now, she held up both for viewing. “Is this okay?”

Morgan had settled into a half-sitting position on the lowlying unit. She cocked her head and smiled. “Have I converted you to my favorite drink?”

Just having something to do with her hands served to calm Ally’s nerves a little. She stood and reached for the two tumblers that sat on a tray next to some coffee cups. “Among other things.”

Morgan removed herself from the wall unit and took a couple of steps so she stood directly behind Ally. Her hands came to rest on her hips and she bent her head so her breath was in her ear. “What else have I converted you to?”

Ally put the bottle of vodka down and closed her eyes. Morgan’s breath was warm and it tickled, sending a fresh wave of shivers through her. And her body against her back felt so good, so soft, fitted so well, just seemed so . . . right. She turned slowly in Morgan’s grasp and looked into those piercing gray eyes.

“You,” she whispered, feeling a flood of emotion so strong it welled up in the form of tears. “You’ve converted me to you.”

“Oh, Ally.” Morgan lifted her hands to her cheeks and wiped gently at the tears with her thumbs. And her lips followed, kissing away any remnants, leaving a moist warmth in their wake. And then, almost without warning, Morgan’s mouth was against her own.

Ally whimpered, Morgan’s lips more tender, more melting than she remembered. Her mouth opened to the gentle pressure, inviting Morgan’s tongue to slide inside and commence an erotic exploration.

Morgan’s hands fell from Ally’s cheeks to her shoulders, stroking up and down, up and down her arms, causing her skin to erupt into goose bumps and the fine hairs on her forearms to stand on end.

“Are you okay with this?” Morgan asked softly as her hands ceased their stroking and reached for the tie of Ally’s halter top.

Ally felt weak at the knees. Her mouth was on fire and every cell of her being tingled. Never before had she been in such a state of arousal, and all it had taken was a kiss and a simple caress. She nodded, standing still, quiet, as the tie was released and the halter top fell away.

“Oh,” Morgan breathed, her gaze almost as a touch to Ally’s breasts. “You are even more beautiful than I imagined.”

Shyly Ally smiled, accepting the compliment. And she bent her head to witness the first time her breasts were cupped by a woman’s hands. Morgan’s hands. It was an image she would never forget. So gently, reverently they were taken. Delicate fingers, long and slender, circled the tissue, traced an imaginary line around her nipples. Already hard with arousal, the almost-touch caused them to ache.

“Please.” She pressed her hands against Morgan’s, begging for more contact.

And Morgan complied, not only with her fingers, but with her mouth. Ally cried out in the pleasure of it. Of the lips that encased her flesh and the tongue that swirled and the teeth that nipped.

The sensation in her breasts grew and grew until it was almost too much. As if reading her body perfectly, Morgan withdrew her attentions and rose to Ally’s height again. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and her pupils dilated. She took a step away, a step toward the bed. Then she held out her hand.

“Come?”

Wordlessly Ally answered, slipping her sandals off and padding to the bed.

With her heels removed and Morgan still in hers, their height difference was magnified. And with Morgan still fully clothed and Ally with her dress draped around her waist, she felt a sudden return of nerves, of being exposed and vulnerable.

But once again Morgan seemed to read her perfectly. She lifted one ankle and then the other, quickly undoing the straps of her own sandals and tossing them aside. Then she looked down to her dress and back to Ally, quirking an eyebrow.

It was an invitation to remove it. Ally did so, holding her breath as Morgan’s skin was slowly exposed and imagining that this, surely, must be what men found so appealing in the act of undoing a woman’s zipper. The planes of her back were firm and smooth, with a faint outline of the muscles that lay underneath. Ally swept aside a thick tress of auburn hair and kissed Morgan from nape to almost the base of her spine and back again. Then she turned her around and drew the straps of her dress from her shoulders. It fell around Morgan’s feet, leaving her in only a little lacy bra and panties.

An unintelligible sound emerged from Ally’s mouth as her eyes opened wide in appreciation of what they saw. Her musings on the train about Morgan having a figure befitting the cover of
Sports Illustrated
had been right on the mark. Put her on the beach in a bikini and she’d cause a riot. “You are a goddess,” she breathed.

Morgan took the step to bring their bodies in contact. “And you are just perfect.” Her hands settled gently at Ally’s waist, but this time when she bent to her lips it was with a crushing passion.

They fell together onto the bed and, somehow, in between all the kisses and caresses and their tangled mess of limbs, their remaining clothes were removed. And somehow, in between more kisses and caresses, they molded into each other’s naked bodies, breast against breast, thighs between thighs.

We’re a perfect fit
, Ally thought in wonder as she closed her eyes, enraptured by the sensation of Morgan’s body against her own, the feel of her under her hands. Everywhere she touched was magic. The lines of her back, the curve of her waist, the fabulous swell of her buttocks. And . . . oh . . . the feel of Morgan’s hands upon her. Upon her breasts, across her stomach and now, stroking up and down her legs.

Ally shifted, her thighs opening in response to the fingers that were moving ever and ever closer to the spot that was burning for attention. Never before had she felt so ready to be touched. Never before had she
needed
so badly to be touched. Her hips ground upward, seeking the fingers that kept advancing and retreating, advancing and retreating.

“Morgan . . . please!” she begged as she arched upward again, chasing relief to this exquisite torture.

And finally, finally it came.

“Ally . . .” Morgan’s breath was hot, her voice heavy as her lips grazed against her ear. Her body moved in rhythm with her fingers, rising and falling, pressing and grinding. Ally was ardent in her touch, awash with sensation. The swell of feeling grew and grew until she was unable to hold it back. She cried out, clutching at Morgan’s back, holding on for dear life as the waves of orgasm swept through her.

And then, mortifyingly, she just cried.

“Oh, Ally. Baby . . .” Morgan gathered her in her arms and rained light kisses on her eyes, her cheeks and her lips as she rocked her gently. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.” A little later Ally swiped at her eyes, still not quite through her rush of tears. “It’s just I was not . . . expecting that.”

Morgan’s gaze flickered over Ally’s face and she smiled. It was not quite confident, but it wasn’t exactly a worried smile either. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know,” Ally admitted, turning out of Morgan’s arms to lie on her side, her head on the pillow. “I don’t have any reference points for this. It’s totally . . . different . . . to what I’m used to.”

Morgan smiled again, more surely this time. She trailed her index finger down Ally’s arm to her wrist, then up her waist, to her ribs. “Different good, or different bad?”

Ally shivered as Morgan’s finger found a breast. She glanced down to find her nipple hardening. And she glanced over to Morgan to find her biting on her lower lip, intent on the effect of her touch. “You tell me which one you think it is,” she said, her voice breaking with renewed desire.

Morgan shifted her gaze back to Ally, her expression all innocence. “Would you mind if I try again, just so I can be certain?”

Ally reached to brush away a stray strand of hair from Morgan’s face. “I don’t think I would mind that at all.”

Morgan shifted closer, close enough their nipples grazed. She slipped her knee between Ally’s willing thighs at the same time she slipped her tongue into Ally’s waiting mouth. “Oh . . . dear God.” She groaned as her fingers again found Ally wet and ready. Then, suddenly, her mouth was gone.

Ally reached for Morgan’s shoulders. “Don’t stop kissing me.”

“I’m not going to.” Morgan slithered out of Ally’s grasp, down her body. And as suddenly as her lips had left Ally’s, they returned. But in a much more intimate place. And their attentions left Ally trembling.

Only this time, there were no tears. Instead, as the waves of her second orgasm had passed and Ally again lay in Morgan’s arms, a thought pierced through her languid, soporific mind.
How did I not know that this was who I was meant to be?
She was thirty-three years old. Surely before now she should have had some clue, some inkling. Then, as she looked into eyes that were searching hers, no doubt wondering what she was thinking, Ally knew the reason.
Up until now I had never known Morgan
.

“What are you thinking?” Morgan asked the question Ally had predicted.

“That I love you,” she said simply, unabashedly. And she held Morgan’s cheeks in her palms, crushing her mouth against hers, not giving the opportunity for a spoken response. Words were unnecessary anyway, the passion of Morgan’s kiss and the surge of her body against her own giving her all the response she needed.

Ally allowed her hands to wander where they wished. They ventured farther than before, discovering new curves, new softness. Finally, they found the inside of Morgan’s thighs. In vain Ally attempted to replicate Morgan’s stroking tease. But she couldn’t. She had to discover the secrets within. Her fingers delved into intricate folds and she gave an involuntary groan, overcome by the evidence of Morgan’s desire. Her fingers slid easily over and around the little bud she found, first in a process of exploration, then with the intent of giving pleasure.

In rapt fascination she witnessed the changes occurring as a result of her attentions. She felt Morgan building, the slick flesh swelling under her fingers, her body pushing harder against her, her hips grinding upward in an ever-increasing motion. Then Morgan stilled completely and Ally’s heart leapt to her throat in the knowledge she was at the point of orgasm.

The stillness was shattered by a series of frenetic thrusts and an almost animal cry.

Ally rode the storm of Morgan’s orgasm in wide-eyed awe. When it was all over and Morgan lay still except for the pronounced rise and fall of her chest, she climbed on top of her, straddling her thighs. She gazed down to the woman below, her heart fit to burst at her beauty, both inside and out.