Page 95 of Vengefully Matched

“What do you want?” whispered Agatha, her voice coming out throaty in a way that turned Priscilla’s insides molten. “Tell me. Teach me.”

“I want the same thing,” she said, dragging Agatha’s hand lower. She went gently, slowly, placing the hand on her stomach. “We can do whatever you’re comfortable with. As much or as little as you like.”

Agatha’s blue eyes darkened, and her lips parted. “I want you to touch me the way you want me to touch you, and I want to stay here, under this blanket, with you, until I do what I’ve wanted to do, really, since the moment I saw you.”

“Since the moment you saw me?” Priscilla paused a little in surprise, letting her hands fall still on Agatha’s thighs.

“I wasn’t admitting it to myself then, but yes. Since the moment I first saw you, on my first day on the Council. You were tearing into Humbert Ravenscrow for some sort of minor infraction. You were livid with him, so frigid, so sharp, practically snarling, and I just… some part of me wanted to take you apart, bit by bit. I want you untethered. Unleashed. Feral.” Agatha’s eyes were hooded, pupils blown wide with desire.

Priscilla slid her fingers between Agatha’s folds, rubbing them along each side of her entrance, and then grazing them, ever so slightly, across her clit.

“I like to be teased a little, almost touched completely. Make me beg for it, Agatha.” She continued the slow descent of her fingers, dipping two of them inside, just a shallow press, to feel how wet she was. She did to Agatha what she’d want done to her, and watched the other woman cant her hips, watched her blush for it. Savored it as the delicious longing, the need, crept up Agatha’s face.

“Then I want you to circle.” She ran her fingers around Agatha’s clit, a repetitive, careful, slight pressure. “Go gentle at first, and then gradually harder, finding a rhythm.” Agatha squirmed, pressing her thighs against Priscilla’s hand.

“Can I,” she gasped, her fingers edging closer to the parts of Priscilla most desperate for her touch.

“Fuck yes,” said Priscilla, gasping a little as Agatha repeated the motion, shaky at first, and then growing more confident. It was so good to be touched like this, by her. She was teetering into it, like a baby deer on weak legs, sometimes pausing to feel what Priscilla was doing to her and mimicking it, but always enthusiastic, tongue pressed against the inside of her own cheek, gasping and moaning and doing her best to keep up. Looking at her face was enough to drive Prissy closer to release, feeling her tentative fingers grow more and more confident was enough to carve Agatha’s name into her heart a thousand times over.

It was exquisite, being touched by someone trying so hard to please, to learn.

“I like to slide in shallow first,” she whispered into Agatha’s ear, slipping her fingers in, two of them, and Agatha moaned, hips jerking, her own fingers repeating the motion, adding a thumb at Priscilla’s clit.

“Look at you adding in your own twist,” she purred. “Such a good girl.”

Agatha tightened around her fingers at that, and Priscilla pressed her thumb against Agatha, feeling the way she faltered, the way she was furiously finger-fucking and then she was still for a moment, still new enough to need that concentration to pause as her legs tensed, her body shook, and her eyes rolled back, pussy clenching around Priscilla’s curling fingers, moaning a long-drawn-out, incomprehensible sound at the feel of it.

“That was…” She opened her eyes, moving her hand against Priscilla again, circling her clit slowly, and picking up speed. “That was incredible. Can I taste you?”

“Oh, fuck,” said Priscilla, the words on Agatha’s tongue and the feel of her nails rubbing ever so gently against Prissy’s folds, enough to make her swollen and strung out with longing. “Fuck yes.”

Agatha pushed her gently so that she was on her back, and crawled down.

“Can I take off the blanket so I can watch?”

Nodding, Agatha bit her lip and tossed it off herself.

She straddled Priscilla, breasts begging to be licked, and lost her focus for a moment as Priscilla gave them precisely what they were asking for.

Eventually, Priscilla watched Agatha remember her intentions. With the same fierce look of determination Priscilla knew from Council meetings, Agatha slid down Priscilla’s body, pushing her legs up so they bent at the knees, and leaning down, face hovering an inch away from where Priscilla wanted her so desperately.

She was slick with desire, too desperate to think, but she didn’t want Agatha to fret.

“I’ll talk you through it,” she managed, between gasps, but Agatha’s quick fingers were already in her cunt and then around it and then her mouth hovered, breath hot, tongue swiping, tentative at first, and then more insistent, slipping in and then up, up, and around her clit.

“You can…” Priscilla meant to tell her she could vary it, do what she liked, go with what seemed like a good idea, but Agatha had started circling, slowly in one direction, and then swiftly, her fingers slipping in and curling, holding, until Priscilla couldn’t help it: she rocked onto Agatha’s hand and against her face.

“I can what?” Agatha breathed against her, the sound hitched and tortured.

“I don’t remember. Just don’t stop.”

A smile curled up Agatha’s face and she ducked back down, licking, circling for a few minutes, and then taking Priscilla’s bud gently between her teeth and tugging in a move that had Priscilla so close. She backed off, sucking, and started moving her fingers slowly, and then quickly, keeping the pressure on her clit steady, and it was so good, each falter, each pause, even hotter for the knowledge that Agatha was determinedly pressing through her fear of the unknown, that she was licking her in a way that said she loved this and wanted it to last. There were a few fumbles, a few moments she reached to gently guide Agatha’s hand or tug her head, each one of them filled with an almost unbearable sweetness. And then Priscilla was climbing, back arching off the bed, shuddering, and clenching against Agatha’s fingers, coming against her face, relishing the look of smug satisfaction on it when she finally sat up, not removing her hand, still pumping in a shallow, torturous way, all the way through it.

“Fuck,” said Priscilla, throwing her head back against the pillow.

“We did.” Agatha’s smile was so wide that Priscilla couldn’t stand to be so far from it. She grabbed her face, pulled her back up her body, and kissed her. Hard. “You’re a really good teacher,” Agatha murmured before returning her lips to Priscilla’s mouth.

Agatha tasted like Priscilla, and like all her wildest hopes and dreams.