Giselle looked expectantly down at Tierney, whose eyes were huge in her narrow face. Her eyes, so large, so pale, seemed to read her easily, which wasn’t always a good thing, but for the most part her understanding made Giselle feel safe.
“Show me. What do you like? I’m a bit rusty, you know. I need directions.” Smiling fondly, Giselle held Tierney closer. “Don’t be shy.”
“I’m not. Not really.” Tierney bit her lower lip. “I just don’t want to embarrass you.”
“Really? Such naughty desires, angel?” Grinning now, Giselle felt so free to express herself that it baffled her.
“Not naughty. Well, I don’t suppose so.” Tierney wormed her way in under Giselle. “I’d like it if you’d kind of give me orders.” She blushed, and Giselle was able to see even that subtle reaction.
“Orders, hmm?” Giselle thought fast. Taking hold of Tierney’s wrists, she pushed them up against the cast-iron-and-wood headboard. “Hold onto the bars and don’t let go. Not until I tell you it’s okay. If I do something you don’t want, or don’t like, just take your arms down and let me know. All right?”
“Yes, All right.” Obviously turned on now, Tierney slurred her words again. “Yes.” She gripped the bars so tight, the bed squeaked. Parting her legs, she made Giselle feel welcome to fulfill her desires and make her reach the climax Giselle had just experienced.
As she pressed open-mouth kisses on every square inch of Tierney’s torso, she moved up to her face, giving her deep, long kisses as if they had all the time in the world. Tierney yanked at the headboard bars, perhaps wanting to hold Giselle.
“In a minute,” Giselle promised her. “Just hold on. She slipped her hand down between Tierney’s legs and found such wetness, she nearly wept from happiness. “How?” she murmured against Tierney’s stomach.
“Inside. Like I did with you.” Tierney pulled her legs up and let them fall to the sides. “Now, please, please, please.”
The scent of shower oil, bath bubbles, and sex permeated the air when Giselle pushed her middle- and ring-finger into Tierney, who cried out sharply before she turned her head and bit the pillow.
“Giselle,” she said, moaning. “Giselle. Oh, God.”
“Like this, like you did?” Giselle searched and found the small patch of rougher texture inside Tierney. Massaging it firmly, knowing how amazing that sensation felt, Giselle looked unwaveringly at Tierney, not wanting to miss a millisecond of her climax.
“Giselle!” Arching, Tierney then convulsed as she contracted around Giselle’s fingers. Sweat poured from her as Tierney kept coming, even after Giselle removed her fingers.
“Tierney. You’re amazing.” Loosening the tight fists that gripped the bars by massaging them gently, Giselle pulled Tierney into a fierce embrace. “I can’t get enough of you. I just have to hold you like this and feel your chest move when you breathe, and your heart beat against mine.”
“Same here,” Tierney whispered. “I came so hard. Unbelievable.”
“Me too.” Giselle pulled at the duvet as the sweat on her skin began to cool her too much. “Only with you.”
“Yes. Only with you.”
They lay in silence, Giselle reveling in the sound of Tierney’s breath and heartbeat until sleep began to claim her. “Sleep well, angel,” she murmured. “I have you.”
“Mm. Same here,” Tierney said again, then chuckled. “So happy.”
Smiling against the top of Tierney’s head, Giselle closed her eyes and knew that very few things had ever felt this right.
* * *
Not sure why she woke up with her heart thundering painfully, Giselle sat up in bed, trembling. Distant voices from her dream kept shouting at her, but the words were garbled and made no sense. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember as she pulled the covers up to her chin.
“Why can’t you just be normal?” a stern voice had said in her dream. It sounded familiar, and she thought it belonged to a former friend from her Juilliard days. The young woman, whose name eluded her, looked at her in dismay, or was it exasperation, and repeated the words with added contempt. “We always have to jump through hoops for you. It can never be easy, can it? It’s always ‘poor little Giselle who is afraid of her own fucking shadow.’ And then the teachers, who know nada about it, think you’re the best thing since they landed on the moon.”
Holding her hand over her stampeding heart, Giselle couldn’t stop the old memories from her late teens and early twenties flood through her like a mudslide. “No,” she whispered. She had fallen asleep feeling so blessed, so happy, and now—reality came hurtling in for its usual check.
Another person, a teacher, had once shaken his head sorrowfully and claimed that it was a pity someone with her extraordinary talent would never be able to have a proper career, unless she settled for studio work and having someone act as a front in public. It didn’t take a genius to understand that he was underhandedly offering to be that front and bask in the glory of her talent.
What would her phobias and limitations do to Tierney’s life if Giselle allowed herself to be selfish? Tierney was as loyal as they came, and she would stick by Giselle, defend her, care for her, assist her. Then one day, the young woman would wake up, realize she wasn’t young anymore and that she missed all the fantastic opportunities she could have had. Same thing went for Stephanie. Giselle could tell the girl liked her, looked up to her as well as Tierney, and it wasn’t rocket science to figure out that Stephanie would like to remain with them. What if Giselle inadvertently turned her into yet another caregiver or assistant? Stephanie would feel she owed Giselle and Tierney everything for “saving her.”
Glancing over at the sleeping woman next to her, she nearly wept at the thought of losing her, but how could she justify tying Tierney down, when she was just starting to spread her wings? A small, insistent voice claimed that it was entirely possible Tierney was in love with her, that it would break the young woman’s heart if Giselle turned her away. She refused to listen to the voice, suspecting it was her own subconscious trying to persuade her to be selfish.
Giselle got up from the warm bed, donned her bathrobe, and tied the belt so hard it hurt. After padding down to the kitchen, she made some chamomile tea and sat on one of the bar stools at the counter. She ran an index finger along the hot rim of her mug. She had to make a decision, and it would be the hardest one she’d ever made.