Best Lesbian Romance 2014 (23 page)

At nearly four
A.M.
I pulled into the drive, longing for the sanctuary of home, our comfortable bed and you. I stripped off my uniform as I moved deliberately through the shadows of the house. The release of the Velcro on my duty belt and the straps on the body armor made sharp noises in the otherwise still darkness, while the chill of the air-conditioning began to ease the fire beneath my skin. Once the layers of work attire and finally my underwear had been shed, I walked nude across the living room, slid open the patio door and stepped onto the lanai. The night air was still thick, hot and sticky.

I silently descended the three stairs into the pool and submerged myself in the crystal water. Cool, liquid relief suffused my overheated body. The light from the full moon overhead and the soft glow of the garden lighting beyond the screen enclosure were the only illumination in the otherwise dark backyard. I dipped under, pushed off from the side wall and crossed the length underwater to surface at the other end. The chill of the water penetrated my body's core, exhilarating and soothing at once. I turned onto my back and floated weightlessly, allowing the peaceful comfort of home to ease the insanity of our shift. I completed another noiseless lap, reveling in the sensation of the water flowing over every inch of my skin. The water muffled all sound to wrap me in fluid quiet, suspending me in its alternate peaceful reality.

I popped up in the shadows at the far end of the pool, suddenly aware of eyes on me. My gaze tracked toward the patio doors to find you standing on the threshold, silhouetted in the light
from the house, watching me in the water. Our eyes met across the humid night. A knot of desire twisted in my stomach as you stepped onto the deck, your face intensely focused, staring. Your lips turned up into a soft, sultry smile, a mixture of gratitude and hunger. I opened my mouth to ask you how you were, but the smoldering look in your eyes stole the air from my lungs and the words died on my lips.

Wordlessly, you dropped your gun belt and removed your outer uniform shirt, ballistic vest and T-shirt, exposing your high, firm breasts and sleek torso in the moonlight. My breath caught in my chest. Heaviness in the pit of my stomach quickly spread between my legs, making it difficult to tread water. I crossed to the built-in seat along the wall in the deep end of the pool, bringing me closer to the side, closer to where you stood in just your BDU pants and boots.

When you bent over to untie your boots, your breasts swayed slightly as you worked the laces free. I felt light-headed. You kicked off the boots and socks, unfastened your belt. I stared as you slid your pants down over your hips to your ankles and stepped free. My breathing came faster now as I took in every inch of your well-muscled, beautiful form. Wetness seeped between my legs that had nothing to do with the water in the pool, and my nipples tightened with desire at the sight of you standing before me so beautiful and proud in the moonlight.

You smiled knowingly and eased into the water beside me, settling on the step. I took your hand to pull you onto my lap. Your legs snaked around my waist and I reached out to grab your ass and nestled you tightly against my stomach.

A bandage covered the area on your forehead just above your left eyebrow. I touched a finger tentatively just at the edge of the gauze. “Can I see?” You nodded and I carefully lifted the tape and the bandage, revealing a line of sutures beneath.
“Sorry.” I lightly touched my lips to the wound, then replaced the dressing.

I tilted my head to search your face and saw the fear from earlier that stopped me abruptly. We locked eyes, sharing a nonverbal connection for long moments. I could almost hear the sounds of the guns and the breaking glass vibrating between us.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I finally asked. The silence stretched for so long that I wondered if you'd heard me. After a while you tightened your hold and shifted more securely in my lap. Tears welled in your eyes. “Baby, it's okay,” I whispered against your skin.

“He reached for the gun. All I could see was his hand reaching for it. I—I didn't see you….” A single tear tracked down your face. I brushed it away with my thumb. For the first time I realized that you were experiencing the same fear for me. My heart broke watching the raw agony that played across your features. I had no idea what to say because I was just as traumatized by the events. We'd stared down a cop shooter, responded with force and killed a man, risking everything.
Everything.
The memory of your stricken face mirroring my panic drove the danger frighteningly home. The peril of loving another cop made crystal clear.

But we survived. You trembled against me. I wrapped my arms tightly around your neck and buried my face in your hair, drawing comfort from the feel and the scent of you. “It's okay,” I whispered. “I'm okay. We both are. Shh…” I threaded my fingers though your dark hair and placed feather-light kisses along your shoulder, up your neck to your face. “I'm here, Mandy.” Our lips met softly. You kept your eyes open as if to reassure yourself that it was the truth. Your hazel eyes change color like a mood ring, always allowing me to read your emotions and needs. What I saw was deep indigo, smoldering with desire so intense that I shuddered in anticipation of your touch. I felt heat from
your center on my stomach, and your mouth quirked up at the corners with just a trace of a smile. You touched the tip of your tongue to my lips and traced their outline slowly before gently entering to begin the enticing slow dance with mine.

Soon my head was spinning and my breathing ragged. I shifted my pelvis, trying to bring you into tighter contact with my torso. You began a slow thrusting motion that left me desperate to feel your heated sex gripping my fingers. With the pad of one finger I traced your contours with light caresses, carefully avoiding the sensitive tip of your clitoris as you moaned softly in my ear. Your hand stole down my abdomen, sliding into my sensitive folds.

Your tongue flicked my stiffened nipple to the same rhythm as your finger at my center. I drove my hands into your thick hair and pulled you more firmly against my breast, forcing it into your mouth. Soon you turned your attention to the other breast, sliding your tongue across the valley between them as you moved, to perform the same ritual, alternately sucking, nipping, devouring while your finger continued to exquisitely torment the base of my clit. My blood roared in my head with the overload of glorious sensation that radiated through every nerve ending of my body. This was life itself. Life we might have lost.

I felt the delicious tingle of my building climax ripple from my stomach toward my center, the pressure intensified with each practiced stroke from you. Coherent thought became impossible as the buzzing in my brain blocked out any other sensations save your incredible touch. Both of us moaned with pleasure. Knowing your body, your need, I slid two fingers smoothly inside and your clit jumped and throbbed against my thumb. You shifted again, forcing my fingers deeper inside. You took my nipple in your mouth, and I felt the vibration of your satisfied chuckle against my breast as your superb torment drew a new gasp from my throat.

I leaned my head back and could hear us driving each other to orgasm through the water. Our arm movements made soft whooshing sounds. The combination of sensations and sounds sent my body soaring toward climax and your pulsing muscles gripped and pulled me more firmly inside. Deeper. Harder. Yes.

You dropped your head to my shoulder as I cradled you in my lap. The physical release gave way to a tenderness that threatened to undo me altogether, and I fought tears that burned my eyes. My hand was still inside you, feeling your tremors slowly fade. You wrapped your arms tightly around me and I surrendered completely into your certain embrace. You painted feather-light kisses along my neck and collarbone until I finally stilled. I raised my head to look into your amazing eyes, now a soft satisfied blue that gently gazed at me, and I was overcome once again by the depth of our love.

You smiled sweetly and placed a delicate kiss on my lips.

Then you whispered, “Welcome home.”

FUZZPLOITATION

Kris Adams

It's a scorcher in the mad city. Hustlers plod through sticky asphalt to make that paper. Kids break into fire hydrants for relief, 5-0 be damned. Hookers advertise their expertise on Popsicles, their ever-watchful pimps keeping cool in the corner stores. Through the noise and haze comes a fine-ass sister, sauntering into Boss Charlie's bar like she owns the whole street. Her armor: platform boots, paisley handkerchief top, pink hot pants and a full-length chinchilla coat. Ninety-eight degrees in the shade, and she doesn't even break a sweat.

Charlie's thugs in the back room are too busy counting bags of drugs to notice the six-foot-tall (with boots and 'fro) sister watching them from the doorway. Once they see her, they spring into action, wanting to know what this foxy Black bitch is doing in the boss's hideout.

One of the goons has the audacity to place his meaty white paw on her. “Foxy broad like you will make a ton of dough for the boss.” He snickers. “Maybe I'll just sample the merchandise first. You like vanilla, baby?”

“First,” she says calmly, smiling so they don't notice the two shiny objects she's slipping from her purse, “you assholes are all under arrest.” Before they can reach for their illegal weapons, she flashes her badge and lodges her pistol against the meat paw's noggin. “And second…I ain't your baby!”

The goons make a play, like they always do. The first three get it in the chest. The fourth, in the back. She's about to take out the fifth when number six clocks her, making her drop her piece. Lip swelling, she lets the chinchilla slide to the floor before crouching into a low stance and lets loose a barrage of fast punches and strikes to disarm them. The roundhouse kicks that send them flying into the walls, those are for messing up the kisser. She's just about to finish them off when a bloated, middle-aged white man in a powder blue leisure suit comes out of a hidden door.

“Congratulations, Eboni Slicke. You've solved my over-employment problem.” He laughs, clapping his sweaty hands. Before Eboni can reach for her second gun, someone grabs her from behind. She squirms, but whoever's got her is strong… skilled…and smells damn good.

“You won't get away with this, Boss Charlie!” Eboni hisses.

“But I already have.” He laughs again as Eboni struggles to break free. “Let me introduce you. Detective Eboni Slicke, say hello to my new right-hand man—Fiona.”

Eboni finally wriggles free and spins around to find herself looking down the barrels of both her guns. The woman holding them offers a lopsided grin, to which Eboni snaps, “Who the fuck are you?”

“I'm your worst nightmare, sweetheart,” drawls Fiona, the new soldier, now number two on the detective's shit list. Eboni sizes her up: tall, hazel eyes, long brown hair, luscious mouth, tight body, white.
Shit.

“Detective Slicke has been after me for years,” Boss Charlie says. “Thinks a man ain't entitled to make a living anymore.”

“Not when your living is selling drugs, turning out our women and sending our men to early graves!” Eboni points an angry finger at The Man, the scourge of her beloved city. “I'm gonna take you down if it's the last thing I do.”

Charlie's evil grin widens. “Couldn't have said it better myself.” Tapping Fiona on the ass, Charlie kicks aside the remains of one of his goons on his way out the door. “Take care of Miss Slicke for me, darling.”

Fiona watches him go, then aims right at Eboni's mountainous hair.

“Tell me, Miss Slicke,” Fiona teases, “how do you get your afro so big?”

“Why don't you put those guns down and I'll show you?” Eboni hisses, ready to open up another can of kung-fu whoop-ass.

“I've heard about you. Badass sister thinks she can take on all the crime in the city by herself.” Fiona lowers the guns just a little, the smirk dropping momentarily from her face. “You're gonna get yourself killed, Slicke.”

“You threatening me, white girl?”

Fiona's cocky grin returns. “You gonna do something about it?”

Eboni takes a step forward, fists at the ready.

Fiona licks her lips in anticipation and then laughs at the sound of approaching police sirens. “Looks like you don't get your man this time.”

Fiona backs away, guns still trained expertly at Eboni's body. “Or should I say, you don't get your
woman?”

As Eboni watches Fiona's nicely round ass disappear into the shadows, she contemplates how she'll explain to her captain yet another pile of dead bodies left in her wake.

* * *

Two hours of forced desk duty is all Eboni can take. She needs to be out working her cases. She needs to be out busting heads. She needs some peace and quiet.

“When are you gonna give a brother a chance, Slicke?”

“Girl, your ass is too fine to be getting shot at!”

“Just give me five minutes alone in a cell with that!”

“You couldn't even handle this,” she tells the uniforms, the plainclothes, the perps being led to the lockup. Like she's supposed to go off with the first jive turkey that smiles at her. Sitting back with her platforms on her desk, she picks at her 'fro and wonders how she's supposed to nail Boss Charlie now. The paperwork doesn't tell her anything new. The only thing new in this case is that heifer that got the drop on her.