Madeleine’s hips bucked up as climax took her for the second time in her life. The tension of decades broke inside her, a rope made of deprivation finally snapping. Answered prayer. The face of God.

She closed her eyes, the world too bright to bear while she throbbed and moaned. So long, it had been so long, and she couldn’t stop moving. Hæra’s tongue kept her pulsing, made her keep coming, until her throat was raw with crying out. Too much.

Never enough.

She didn’t want it to end, but it had to, or she’d die. She’d just come until she died at Hæra’s hands, or mouth, and suddenly there was so much to live for. Madeleine loosened her grip in Hæra’s hair and pushed her head instead. “No more…no more, please…”

Hæra gasped against her. She must have been holding her breath. She could probably hold her breath for a very long time.

The room was out of focus. Only Hæra was clear. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, licked her lips, and closed her eyes as if savoring the flavor. She sighed. Then she surged forward, relentless and implacable, and pressed her mouth to Madeleine’s again.

Madeleine tasted—that must be herself, what Hæra just licked from between her legs. It was the taste of pleasure. Did all women taste like this? Would Hæra?

Their naked breasts pressed together, warm and soft. The memory of ecstasy lapped between Madeleine’s thighs. She was boneless, and Hæra’s greedy kiss stole what little breath she had.

“I fuck myself,” Hæra rasped. “That’s what it’s called. Now I want you to do it to me instead.”

Madeleine made a soft, wheezing noise.

“I like how my fingers feel in me.” Hæra grabbed Madeleine’s wrist. Her hand trembled. “Yours will be different. I’ve thought about it so many times, do it to me now, please!”

Her breath was hot on Madeleine’s mouth. She was all strength and salt, but for the first time, Madeleine wondered if she might not make Hæra weak and sweet instead.

Was she dreaming? Not this time. Hæra’s jeans button was real beneath Madeleine’s hands as she fumbled with it, and then the zipper, while Hæra rose up on her knees. Her legs shook on either side of Madeleine’s.

Madeleine yanked the zipper down and tugged at Hæra’s jeans. Hæra helped, pushing down the jeans to her knees, and then down to her ankles, where her boots stopped her progress. Her underwear followed. They were both half dressed on the floor, couldn’t even get their pants all the way off; that wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, was it? For your first time, weren’t you supposed to be naked in a bed, taking your time?