Chapter 23

twenty-three

Regan was still vibrating with energy an hour later, as she lay on her back in bed.

Yes, it was nearing midnight. Yes, she'd had an extremely busy day; she'd worked an early morning shift, then had to cover half of Liz's shift she'd called out from, before coming home to prepare for her date. Then, had gone on the best fucking date of her entire life.

She couldn't believe it had gone so well, especially when she'd been a total idiot and hadn't double-checked the details for Alexis Levine's Q anything to help drown out her thoughts. She hadn't , because she apparently loved pain, and didn't totally want to get rid of these thoughts.

She felt like a fucking bloodhound that had picked up a scent on a trail, holding her breath and tensing every muscle as she waited to see if she'd hear the sound again.

There! There it was again!

The faintest… moan? Was that a fucking moan ?

Regan had – unfortunately – been the unwilling audio-spectator of the neighbor to her left having relations, and that quiet, almost imperceptible sound was not what it sounded like.

Her heart started to pound in her chest at the reality she was being presented with.

Those quiet sounds had to be coming from Emma's room. From Emma .

"God. Oh, god. Fuck," she swore, the heat she'd barely been able to slow to a simmer inside of her turning back to a boil in about two seconds.

Was Emma over there… ten feet away… touching herself, thinking about Regan?

Unable to help herself, she hastily grabbed at her phone where it rested on the bedside table. Her hands shook as she texted.

Regan – 11:57PM

Are you awake???

She didn't breathe, didn't inhale or exhale a single fucking time, as she waited…

Emma looked at her message within seconds, but didn't answer for almost a minute.

Emma – 11:58PM

Yes

Yes ? That was all Emma was going to say to her right now?!

Deliberately crossing her legs tightly, giving into her need, Regan texted back.

Regan – 11:58PM

And… what are you doing??

Swallowing thickly, she watched as those three little telling bubbles appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. Disappeared. Appeared…

"Jesus christ," she moaned softly, because that hesitation in Emma's answer was all the confirmation Regan needed.

She knew Emma, now. Knew her very well. If Emma had been doing something innocent over in her room like reading a book or something, she would have simply said it.

Regan wasted no time, not a single second.

She rolled onto her stomach, sliding her hand down to wedge it under herself. Pressing her hand tightly between her body and the bed, angling her hips up so she could – " Yesss ," she breathed out, as she slid her fingers down into her shorts, brushing over her clit.

She used the lightest of touches, because she knew she'd come so, so quickly. Her very active mind had been operating film reels for an hour, working on the heady sensations that had flooded her system since that kiss.

When her phone vibrated in her hand and signaled a text, she whipped her head up in shock. She hadn't actually expected Emma to answer!

Emma – 12:00AM

I'm not doing anything that I'm not allowed to do to and with myself, in my own apartment, in my own room, after a very intense kiss with a very attractive woman

Regan's breathing labored already, as she dropped her head into her pillow, and rolled her hips down into her hand. God. God!

She'd known Emma had been touching herself – probably – but the confirmation… it made Regan's clit pulse against the very light touch from Regan's fingertips.

Regan – 12:01AM

What are you thinking about?

Texting with her non-dominant hand while balancing her phone against her mattress wasn't Regan's best skill, but she wasn't going to miss this opportunity for the fucking world.

Arching her hips up, she slid her hand further down, avoiding touching her clit directly. She was so, so sensitive and she couldn't let this be over so soon. A breathless cry caught in her throat as she pressed her fingertips against her opening, working her hips down against herself.

Emma – 12:02AM

Obviously, I'm thinking about that woman

Regan – 12:03AM

Me. You're thinking about me. Say it

Please

She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, sharply, waiting for an answer. Trying desperately to hold herself back from actually fucking herself – fingers deep inside, rubbing her clit, working to that orgasm that she knew would be within reach in mere moments – until she knew.

Emma – 12:03AM

I'm thinking about you

Regan released her breath, and with it, an aching moan from the back of her throat. She hadn't even known, really, that the moan would escape, but without holding herself back… well, she couldn't say she was surprised. Nor could she say she cared.

They were doing this .

Without needing to restrain herself anymore, Regan slid two of her fingers further inside, feeling the slight stretch, and she groaned with it. The same kind of sounds she let out on Monday night, when she hadn't thought Emma was home.

Emma – 12:04AM

What are YOU doing over there???

Already feeling herself start to pant, her hips canting down against her hand to ride her fingers, Regan attempted to type back. Only for her phone to fumble and fall face-down against her mattress, and, "Fuck it."

She flipped her phone over and hit the call icon, relieved that she didn't have to worry about maintaining enough sanity to text, anymore.

She knew she wasn't going to have the wherewithal to continue that soon, anyway.

It rang three times – far too many times, really, when Regan knew for a fact Emma was holding her phone in her hand – before Emma answered, "Why are you calling me?"

Emma's own breathing was labored, though it sounded like she was trying to get it under control for reasons Regan couldn't understand. Not when she was on the brink of completely giving herself into the flames dancing inside of her.

"Because – ah ," her breath hitched, and she whimpered as her fingers brushed against one of the sensitive places inside of her. Her entire body shuddered with it, and she could hear how broken her own words were, as she pushed them out. "Because you don't moan as loudly as I do, and I want to hear you."

There was a beat of silence and Regan wondered if she'd gone too far. Was the call pushing things? Emma had said she didn't want to rush –

Emma let out a deep, rasping groan. "Fuck, Regan. I – you're killing me."

"You started it," she shot back, pressing her hot cheek against her sheet as she rolled her hips down even harder, really starting to fuck herself, now. "I was being good tonight; I wasn't doing this. But then I could hear you, and I only have so much self-control."

She could hear Emma's breath hitch. "I didn't mean for you to hear me; that's never happened before. I just – I couldn't sleep," she admitted in a whisper.

"Me, neither," Regan eagerly offered, shamelessly. "All I could think about was you."

"I'm… I've never done this on the phone," Emma admitted, her voice sounding so deliciously guttural. "I've barely done it in text, but at least then I can think clearly about what I'm going to say."

"Don't think," Regan urged, feeling mindless herself. She slid her fingers as deep inside as she could, then held them there and grinded her hips down.

The sound that tore itself from her throat almost hurt, but it felt so… fucking… good .

"Fuck," Emma's answering moan only intensified this spiraling heat inside of her.

"If this is too much or too quick, then hang up. I won't be offended," Regan grit out, before she had to cut herself off for several long moments. She stilled her hips, swallowing thickly to try to maintain any possibility of a clear thought for Emma's boundaries. "I don't want to push you. I just – I want you, so badly. I've wanted you since that night in the bookstore. Maybe – probably – before. Every time I've touched myself since then, I've thought about you. About your body. About what you'd feel like on top of me. About how you'd taste. I've never tasted another woman, but–"

" Regan ," Emma's voice was hoarse and reedy. "I – you…"

"Yeah, me . Even when I've tried not to think about you, you've kept popping up in my thoughts every time I touch myself. I can't help it, Emma. It's like a dirty obsession, and I can't stop," she confessed, wanting to confess even more.

Wanting to confess the detailed thoughts she'd gotten off to for weeks. Wanting to hear how Emma would respond to it, wanting to know how feasible they were.

"Hang up." She turned her head and pushed her entire face into her mattress, hard . Clenching her teeth as she tried to keep her hand and her hips as still as possible, even as she was shaking from the effort of holding back. "I'm seriously begging you, if this is a boundary for you, you have to hang up. Because I can't."

"I can't hang up, either," Emma admitted, her tone was so gravelly, it made Regan's eyes squeeze closed. Like, if she kept her eyes closed and heard Emma's voice sound like that right next to her ear, she could pretend Emma was here in her bed, instead of across the hallway. "I can't believe I'm doing this with you, but I don't want to stop. I was–"

Emma cut herself off on a hissed out breath, and Regan couldn't stop herself from slowly starting a new rhythm. Rolling her hips down against her hand, so slowly. Trying to make this last as long as she possibly could.

"You were what?" There was a tone in her own voice she'd never heard. Something that was a cross between demanding and begging, and that was exactly what she felt right now, when it came to Emma. She wanted to demand Emma tell her everything, to lay herself as open for Regan as Regan would do for her, and she also had no problem begging for it.

"I was so close, when you texted me. I didn't – mm , I didn't realize you could hear me. I'm… god," Emma broke off on a series of panting breaths. "I'm not usually a loud person; I don't usually make a lot of noise during… and I didn't think – I – I didn't think ."

Regan whined, nodding wordlessly as she worked a third finger inside of herself, needing more . The fact that Emma wasn't vocal during sex, but she was tonight while thinking about Regan… yeah, that only served to drive Regan even closer to the imminent, orgasmic edge. She throbbed, clenching so tightly around her own fingers.

"I've never felt like this," Emma confessed, a whimper escaping her before she bit it off.

"What are you thinking about?" Regan breathlessly demanded. She just – she needed to know. She needed desperately to know.

"I'm thinking about your mouth on me. I – Regan, I think about your mouth all of the time; you have no idea." Emma's breathing was so ragged, and Regan knew Emma was so far gone. Because she couldn't imagine Emma ever saying that to her if she had all of her wits about her, and Regan's entire body felt like it was on fire from the inside out.

She licked her lips as if she could taste Emma on them, now, and they tingled. "I'd love that," she breathed back, groaning with it. "I love the idea of your thighs around my head, being able to slide my hands up them, gripping and touching everywhere that I want, and–"

Emma's breath caught in her throat, a ragged, high-pitched gasp ringing in Regan's ear. Followed by the quietest, trembling whimpers, and… Emma just came.

Emma came, for her . Emma came, thinking about Regan's mouth, listening to Regan talk, and – and…

Regan squeezed her eyes tightly closed, sliding her dripping wet fingers from deep inside of herself to rub desperately at her clit. She couldn't wait anymore. Physically, literally, she could not wait . If she denied herself this orgasm for any longer, she felt like she would die from it.

"I'm on my stomach," she hurriedly told Emma, wondering if her words were even coherent between the other cries she knew she was emitting. "Normally – fu-fuck – normally, I'd use a vibrator, but… but I didn't want to. I wanted to be able to imagine you were on top of me, and that it was y-your hand–"

She couldn't manage the rest of her sentence; she had no idea what else she'd been going to say. How was she supposed to know, when she couldn't think of anything, anymore? She could only think of the orgasm that rolled over her in waves, how her toes curled so tightly, and how best to rub her clit so she could draw out every last bit of pleasure.

In her head, that was exactly what she thought of, as she worked the orgasm from her body. She imagined Emma's voice not on the phone, but live. In her ear, her warm breath on Regan's cheek. She imagined it wasn't her fingers working over her aching clit, but Emma's.

Finally, when she had nothing left to give, Regan groaned – long and low – and fell, limply, to her bed. Completely wrung out, she collapsed, trying to catch her breath.

When she finally could, she lifted her hips up a few inches and whimpered as she slid her hand out from her shorts, before dropping her arm onto her bed.

She swallowed, wishing she'd had the foresight to get herself a glass of water. Then again, how could she have known this was going to happen?!

Blinking her eyes open, she glanced at her phone to see if their call was still connected.

And that hazy, post-orgasm pleasure dissipated immediately when she saw that the screen was black.

The liquid feeling that had made Regan's limbs feel pleasantly heavy and tired dissipated, replaced with a self-conscious gnawing concern. Quickly, she reached up and tapped at her screen, hoping that her phone was just being weird or something.

But… no.

The call was disconnected. That kind of – no, it really – hurt, and Regan's throat felt strangely tight. What had she done wrong? What –

The quiet knock on her door had her quickly pushing herself up, staring for several beats at it. Obviously, it was Emma, but Regan was feeling, uncharacteristically, unsure of herself right about now.

"I'm really close to just opening the door," Emma's voice was slightly muffled from. "But I don't know if you're wearing clothes or not, and I think – for sanity's sake – that clothing should be on, right now. Since we, obviously, don't have great self-control."

Still confused, but slightly less tangled up in knots, Regan glanced down at herself as if needing to double-check before she answered, "I'm wearing clothing."

Her door opened, then, and Emma stood in the doorway. She had a glass of water in her hand, and she had those stupidly sexy glasses on her face, as she hesitated after taking a single step.

"I, um, thought you might want this," she murmured, holding up the water. "Based on Monday… and the cries and moans you just let out, now."

If Regan were a betting woman, she'd bet her life that Emma's cheeks were blushing. She couldn't really tell, given that the only light filtering in came from the moonlight filtering in from her window, and the nightlight in the hallway behind Emma.

"You hung up the phone." She'd meant to sound either joking or accusatory – unsure which – but mostly, she could hear her own insecurity filter through.

Emma shifted from foot to foot, coughing slightly, before she answered, "I listened, first. To every single sound you made." There was that breathy pitch in her tone, again. Something that, along with her words, soothed Regan's worries. "I only hung up when your breathing started to even out, and I–"

Regan could see the way Emma bit her lip, and she tilted her head in curiosity. "You…?" She prompted.

"I just… I've never had sex with someone and not been with them," Emma admitted, sounding embarrassed. "It felt really impersonal, and weird, and wrong to not be with you, after. So, I just thought that I'd get you some water and come in here to see you. Which, ah, now that I'm doing it and seeing the way you're staring at me, I'm wondering if maybe I shouldn't have?"

Any of those cold, ugly feelings that had started to worm their way in were completely washed away, and Regan quickly shook her head. "You absolutely should have. Come in," she urged, waving Emma over to her. "Please."

She could hardly stop herself from bouncing on the mattress, feeling herself completely come alive all over again in Emma's physical presence. Especially as Emma walked, tentatively, closer.

She reached out for the water as soon as Emma was close enough, very deliberately sliding her fingers over Emma's, and relishing that feeling that buzzed through her at the connection.

As she brought the glass to her lips, she stared up at Emma in her dark room, and she could see how unsure Emma was, right now. She'd been able to hear it, when Emma had explained herself. And something about that made Regan feel so… endeared. Like she wanted to pull Emma down against her and hold her closely.

Because Emma was always such a commanding presence. Like she never doubted herself or how she felt or how she approached the world. But right now, in the middle of the night in Regan's room, after they'd essentially come as close to having sex with one another as they could without actually touching each other, she seemed off-kilter.

And because she knew Emma, she reached out with her other hand and grasped Emma's before she could walk away and gruffly excuse herself back to her own room.

"Do you want to sleep with me?" She asked as soon as she finished drinking her water. "Just sleep. I swear. No funny business… mostly because I'm all funny-businessed out," she added with a teasing smile.

She could both see and feel Emma's hesitation, even as she squeezed Regan's hand.

"I really liked sleeping with you the other night," Regan confessed in a whisper, and it was the utter truth. "I'd love to do it in my bed instead of on the couch." Internally, she forced herself to pump on the brakes. "But I get if you don't want to. We did go a little further than either of us had anticipated, already, tonight."

Still, though, Regan caught and held her breath. Wanting with every fiber of her being for Emma to take her up on her offer.

She'd never slept with another person in her bed. Never. Whenever she'd been sleeping with guys or dating, she'd stayed at their place, respecting this apartment as her and Sutton's sanctuary. But her entire body tingled with eager anticipation at the idea of sharing her bed with Emma. Especially after what they'd just done.

"Yeah. I'd like that," Emma agreed, her voice so, so soft.

Thrilled, Regan quickly placed her glass on her bedside table – so quickly, it rocked back and forth and nearly fell over – before she lifted herself up to scramble under the blanket, and then held the blanket up for Emma to scoot in.

Which, she did.

She sat, and then slowly reclined against one of Regan's pillows – the one Regan had pushed her face into a few minutes ago, actually, and that was a whole other rush for her.

Even as Emma laid back, Regan stayed sitting up for another minute, looking down at her.

"You're in my bed," she whispered, excitedly.

"I really liked sleeping with you the other night, too," Emma murmured, rolling her lips after, as she looked up at Regan. Slowly, she arched an eyebrow at her, and with it, she started to look far more like her typical self. "Are you going to lay down, or just keep looking at me like that?"

Regan shrugged, even as she shifted to snuggle down into her bed. "I just want to memorize it. You. Here."

She scooched in close to Emma, pressing their legs together. Emma was wearing shorts, too, and Regan shivered at the sensation of their skin-on-skin contact. She didn't stop, though, until she was pressed right into Emma's side, and she paused before she draped her arm over Emma's waist.

"Is this okay? It's how we woke up the other day, but–"

Emma's intent stare remained locked on Regan's face as she slowly nodded. "Yeah. I… I really like the way you feel, like this."

Oh, god. That hoarse tone to her voice had nothing to do with sex or lust, now, and everything to do with a shy confession, Regan could tell. And it made her heart skip a beat.

"Me, too," she reassured, needing Emma to know she was far from being alone in that.

She rested her head on Emma's shoulder, settling down snugly against her, before she took a deep breath and filled her lungs with Emma . She melted into it, feeling that post-orgasm exhaustion start to filter back.

"What we just did, for the record, was super hot," she whispered against the thin, soft fabric of Emma's shirt. "I have no regrets, and I hope you don't, either."

She felt a shiver run up her spine as Emma pressed her hand to the small of her back, sliding ever-so-cautiously under Regan's tank top. "I don't, and I agree."

Completely satisfied – physically and emotionally – Regan felt a smile tug at her lips as she closed her eyes. "For the record, I love your glasses. 10/10 think you should wear them more."

She could hear Emma set the aforementioned glasses on her nightstand, and Regan loved that she felt more than heard the soft, sleepy chuckle Emma breathed out. "I'll take that under advisement."

"Good, thank you." She sighed, that sleepiness she'd been begging for earlier finally hitting her like a ton of bricks. "Sweet dreams, Emma."

"Sweet dreams back."