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When Waverly wakes, it’s to the pink and orange glow of an early morning sunrise. It’s so large and clear above her that it takes her a moment to realize she isn’t outside. Instead, she’s staring up through a domed glass ceiling, a ceiling she had last seen dotted with thousands of twinkling stars.

Slowly, she rolls over, taking in the only sight that could possibly be more beautiful than the sunbeams breaking over the tops of the trees. Nicole Haught is splayed out in bed beside her, snoring softly, drooling a little on her rumpled pillow. The sheets are twisted around her hips, as if she’s been kicking a little in her sleep, and her loose tank top has ridden up, revealing the pale skin of her midriff.

Waverly is honestly a little puzzled by the shirt. When they’d passed out the night before, neither of them had been wearing any clothes. Not that it matters. One of the best things about getting a present is unwrapping it.

She starts by running her fingertips along Nicole’s exposed hip. There isn’t any movement, but Waverly gasps a little anyway, because Nicole’s skin is still deliciously warm from sleep. Warm, and incredibly soft too—so soft that she can’t help trailing her hand higher, splaying her palm across the small of Nicole’s back.

That’s one thing about women Waverly has learned, or maybe it’s just a thing about Nicole. Underneath all that softness, those plush curves, are incredibly powerful muscles, muscles she longs to sink her fingers and teeth into.

Yep. Probably just Nicole. (And on that note, how did she get to be the luckiest girl in the world?)


The little sound falling from Nicole’s parted lips sends a jolt straight to Waverly’s core. It’s low and sleepy, and it just about melts her heart, as well as other places lower down. She waits, curious to see whether Nicole will wake up, and she gets her answer when her lover’s bleary eyes blink open.


The sight of Nicole’s smile spreading across her face is more beautiful than a hundred dawns breaking. Waverly’s pretty sure her heart is growing too big for her chest, because it hurts when Nicole’s eyes focus on her. But it’s a good hurt, the best kind of hurt, like diving off the dock into a cold lake and hitting the water, like she’s just swallowed the best homemade hot sauce imaginable and it’s lighting her stomach on fire.


Nicole’s still half-dazed, and she’s still probably got morning breath, and her hand is still half-way under Nicole’s shirt, but Waverly doesn’t care about any of those things. She leans in and takes Nicole’s lips in a tender good-morning kiss, mostly because she wants to and she can. They’ve earned it. They’ve overcome so much already, but now that they’re together, all of that seems far away.

In less than a second, Nicole is kissing her back. Waverly suddenly finds herself flipped over, a firm thigh riding hard between her legs and her hand tangled in Nicole’s choppy red hair. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the woman can kiss. She’d just meant to say good morning, but she doesn’t have any objections to the way Nicole wants to greet the day. Nope. No objections at all.

They only break apart long enough for her to strip off Nicole’s shirt. For Waverly, it’s like the sun is rising in their very own room. Nicole’s body is a breathtaking landscape her hands have learned well over the past several months, but there are still so many secrets to discover. Part of her wants to linger, but another part of her needs Nicole now, not just because that kiss had lit her blood aflame and sent it racing to every corner of her body, but because she craves that connection, that togetherness.

It’s something she’s never felt with anyone else.

Nicole must notice her staring, because she shakes her head, laughing through her grin. “What are you doing?”

Waverly grins back. “Just enjoying the view.”

“Not the view we paid for at the hotel,” Nicole points out.

Waverly runs a hand up along Nicole’s powerful core to cup one of her breasts, thumbing a soft brown nipple to hardness. “Well… some things just can’t compare, no matter how much money you spend on ‘em.”

That must be a satisfactory answer, because Nicole dips down for another kiss, and soon, Waverly is lost in the breaking of the waves. Nicole’s touch rolls over her body like the tides, pulling and insistent, leaving her helpless but exhilarated. She can’t fight against it—she doesn’t want to fight against it, because she knows she’s safe here in Nicole’s arms. Nicole has become her safe place, away from all the ugliness beneath Purgatory’s peaceful exterior.

When Nicole begins kissing down her body, Waverly allows it, threading her fingers through Nicole’s hair and pushing insistently. She can’t help it. Nicole leaves her breathless and greedy and dripping, and her thighs are already parted in anticipation.

But Nicole won’t be rushed. She runs her tongue along Waverly’s collarbone, dusting kisses around her nipples in teasing rings before actually taking one between her lips, and even then, it’s only for a few flicks of her tongue.

The teasing touches have Waverly shaking like a leaf. They’re moving fast, but not fast enough, and her helplessly clutching fingers in Nicole’s short bob aren’t doing much to control the pace. Her nipples are flushed pink points and her heartbeat has dropped down between her thighs and if she doesn’t get some kind of attention there soon, she feels like she might crawl out of her skin.

“Please,” she mutters, tossing her head against the pillow. The pink streaks of the sunrise above her have become a glowing gold, but all she can see are the white spots flashing in front of her eyes as Nicole’s thigh continues pressing into her, causing her entire body to jolt.

That please is enough. Nicole is more interested in relieving her than teasing her, because she continues kissing down, down, until she’s ducking beneath Waverly’s knees and Waverly finally, finally feels that wicked tongue set to work.

The first stroke is flat, swiping across every inch of her sensitive folds at once. The next one is pointed, circling her clit, teasing it through the hood. Then she starts sucking, and Waverly doesn’t just see a sunrise: she sees fireworks during the day with each pull of Nicole’s hungry mouth.

“Oh yes, oh, yes, yes, yes…” Waverly doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore, and it doesn’t matter. Nicole is taking it all as encouragement, because she’s licking faster, sucking harder, not just Waverly’s clit, but every bit of wetness she can reach.

Waverly arches off the bed, screwing her eyes shut, quivering on the edge of over-stimulation. Nicole isn’t just tasting her. Nicole is devouring her, not gentle, not rough either, but with a masterful kind of purpose that makes her shiver. This is a woman who knows what she wants and what she’s doing, and that confidence and desire is evident in every stroke of her tongue.

And that tongue, that wonderful, awful tongue, quickly brings her to the peak of the mountain. She’s not just climbing, she’s hurtling up and up, soaring higher than anyone else has ever taken her, where the air is thin and she’s gasping for breath. Her world had been a flat desert before, but Nicole is her Everest, as hokey as that metaphor is. When Nicole’s with her, she can reach further, and feel more, than ever before. She can almost touch the sun itself.

When she finally comes, it’s not like falling. It’s more like floating, because it seems to go on forever, the feeling of weightless freedom. Her inner muscles contract around Nicole’s fingers—Jesus, when had Nicole actually started fucking her? She’s so wet that the sticky, slapping sound is audible in her ears and she releases a pulse of slippery heat each time Nicole’s fingers probe her throbbing front wall. And her clit, oh God her clit, Nicole has it pulled deep into her mouth and is teasing the tip with these feather light licks that have her hips twitching with sharp little jerks.

Her brain jumps from one sensation to another, trying to make sense of them all, but there’s no way to do that, and so she just lets the wind carry her until she finally touches back down to earth, to the hotel bed, with Nicole’s shining eyes as her anchor.

“Damn,” she laughs, her voice croaky and breathless from shouts she hadn’t known in her. Not that it matters. They’re in a hotel in the middle of the forest half way up a mountain, and if any of the other guests have overheard, screw them.

Nicole draws back, the lower half of her face glistening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. C’mere.”

Waverly pats the mattress beside her, and Nicole climbs back up along her body, withdrawing her fingers with a soft clicking noise. Waverly can still feel them wet against her hip, but that’s fine by her. There’s a shower attached to the room, when they actually get around to using it.

“This is beautiful,” she says once Nicole has flopped beside her and flung an arm over her still-trembling belly.


Nicole isn’t looking at the sunrise at all, Waverly realizes. And that, more than the spirit of reciprocity, is what compels her to roll over so she’s on top of Nicole this time. She can feel Nicole’s heat painting her stomach, pleading for attention, and so she slides a hand down along Nicole’s abdomen.

“Just lie back, baby,” she murmurs, drawing a teasing line with her fingers, “and watch the sun rise.”