Page 61 of Homegrown Magic

Margot scoffs at that. “I am unscathed, except for the kisses you’ve marked me with.”

Yael swears again, starting to rub at the gleaming trail painted above her breasts.

But Margot grabs their wrist. “Leave them. I’ll wear them with pride. Now turn around.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, please.”

Yael shoots her a smirk over their shoulder and turns. “As you insist.”

“Thank you.” Margot takes a step backward, her hand at Yael’s waist, pulling them into her body. As they fit together, Yael’s back to Margot’s curves, they take another step backward. And one more. When Margot’s firmly pressed against the jasmine-covered stone wall of the manor, she slips a finger under Yael’s mask strings, untying the knot. The ram’s disguise tumbles to the ground, joining Margot’s discarded mask on the balcony floor.

“Are you undressing me in my parents’ house, Daisy?” Yael’s voice is husky, a touch playful, with an edge of need woven through it. The words send a shiver down Margot’s spine. She would like nothing more than to undress them right here and have them on this balcony.

“Perhaps.” Margot rests a hand on Yael’s waist, pulling them closer to her chest. The silk of their jacket brushes against her bare skin, and she melts with longing. She isn’t thinking about the party below or Yael’s fine words. Or the life they will never make for themselves in Bloomfield. All she’s thinking about is the desperate need racing through her veins.

“You wicked thing,” Yael murmurs as Margot whispers a kiss above the collar of Yael’s shirt. They taste like the night, with a hint of their own scent that makes Margot feel drunk. She drags her lips up the nape of their neck.

She feels so very wicked, and so very hungry. “I can’t help it. You’re delicious…” She pulls Yael even closer, nibbling lightly on their earlobe.

Yael lets out a low moan, full of wanting. That noise undoes Margot, and she’s suddenly desperate to touch Yael. To feel them under her hands. To taste them…

“Daisy…” Yael gasps as Margot’s hand snakes around to the front of Yael’s jacket. “As much as I love this, I thought we agreed to not ruin your dress until after the party.”

“My dress will survive us.” She unbuttons their pants, slipping a hand past the waistline and letting her fingers drift below Yael’s silken underwear. Yael’s skin is warm, their stomach muscles taut under her touch.

Margot runs her fingers along the arch of their hip bone, inching closer, ever deliciously closer, to the heat between Yael’s thighs.

Yael inhales sharply as Margot’s fingers slide another inch lower. “What about the people below? They might hear us.” Yael’s words are ragged with wanting.

Margot isn’t worried about the party. “No one will hear us,” she assures Yael, leaning closer so her lips brush Yael’s ear. “Because you are going to be very, very quiet.”

“Daisy…”

“Shhhhhh.”

She moves her hand a bit lower, her thumb hovering so close to Yael’s center, she can feel them tremble. She kisses the corner of their jaw. The side of their mouth. Slowly, oh, so very slowly, she lets her hand slip between their legs. Yael arches to meet her touch.

“Margot—oh gods…”

“Hush,” she reminds them, murmuring in their ear.

Yael nods, leaning into Margot, their need hot and insistent against her hand. Her fingers are strong from years of work in the garden and greenhouses, and she knows how Yael likes to be touched.

She slips one finger, and then two, inside them, using her thumb to carefully, deliberately stroke the small center of their pleasure. Again. Harder now, and more demanding, until Yael is nearly gasping as they push against Margot’s fingers. Yael bites their lip fighting a moan, and heat flashes through Margot. Suddenly, there’s nothing more important than Yael’s pleasure. Nothing more urgent than Margot telling them with her hands and her body how vital they are to her.

She works another finger inside them, deeper this time, pushing hard with the heel of her hand. Yael trembles.

“Daisy, I’m begging you…”

She increases the pressure of her hand, using the other to pull Yael even closer, so their backside grinds right against her own need.

“What are you begging me for?” Another stroke.

Yael makes a strangled noise, squirming under Margot’s touch. “I need you to…oh gods, yes, Daisy, exactly like that…”

She keeps going. “What are you begging me for?” she asks again.