“No.” Her voice is far more firm than she’d expected with how aroused she is, how much her head feels like it’s spinning in wonder at the entire conversation. “What I miss most of all is holding my hands against her hips and pressing her down against the bed. Feeling her dripping against my mouth, how hard her hips press against my face. Her hands in my hair, how desperate she gets, her legs shaking, my name the only thing she can say…”

She has to turn her head away as Hannah’s lips part on a strained exhale, clamping her eyes closed.

Which doesn’t help her predicament, given that the woman coming undone at her touch in her mind’s eye most definitely does have an identity.

“Oh.” Is all Hannah breathes out. Caroline can feel her shift onto her back, can feel the absence of her stare.

“Yeah.” She croaks out in response, whimpering softly at just how soaked she is, how sensitive she feels against her sleep shorts as she shuffles around, trying to find a comfortable position. Not that it exists right now.

No cuddling tonight, at least not until she’s dead asleep; she might just come the second Hannah’s body touches hers.

“I’ve never had sex like that,” Hannah’s confession is so quiet, her voice barely more than a whisper and an octave deeper than normal. “Being wanted that badly. Wanting that badly.”

Caroline knows she shouldn’t. She absolutely knows she shouldn’t turn to look at Hannah again or ask the words that formulate in her mind. But she can’t listen to that voice right now, not when her clit is so hard. She looks at Hannah. “What do you miss about sex?”

“It’s not what I miss; it’s what I want.” Hannah corrects, her eyes on Caroline’s for a long beat before they slip closed.

“What do you want?” She’d give anything for this answer, in this moment. She doesn’t care how bad it is for her, she doesn’t care about anything other than knowing just what Hannah wants.

Hannah draws in a deep breath and her chest rises with it and even though Caroline shouldn’t, her eyes fall to the swell of her breasts. With the blanket pulled down to Hannah’s hips and the same worn in tank top she’d had on the previous night, it’s obvious to see that she isn’t wearing a bra. And her nipples are so hard, Caroline’s throat is instantly parched.

“What you described is pretty good,” that hoarse sound in Hannah’s voice is back and fuck if it doesn’t give Caroline a thousand ideas. “Perfect.”

Pretty good, as in Hannah likes to be eaten out? Or held down while it happens? Both – Caroline’s mind is alight with possibilities and she wants very much to ask them.