LOTS Fic: Aydindril Burning 9/10 (Cara/Kahlan)
Richard pressed against her side, stroking her thigh, running his fingers through her hair, resting his arms around her shoulder. It felt as if he was touching her all the time, afraid she might have ceased to be corporeal at some point. She felt relieved that Cara was not sitting in first class with them to watch as he leaned in to nuzzle her neck. Every so often he murmured her name, just her name and nothing more. She smiled, a little strained, when the stewardess complimented them on being such a handsome couple. The flight felt interminable.
She had been rushed, following their return to Hartland, into some sort of debriefing procedure. She could tell them nothing except that Mord-Sith were terrible cooks, had uncomfortable uniforms and really liked to hit people. She assumed that none of that was news. Her head had only just stopped spinning when Richard pushed her into a shiny black Humvee and whisked her to a waiting Army jet, where they flew, accompanied by a silent and stony-faced Cara to Rammstein in Germany where they caught a commercial flight back to the States. Where she was sitting. Trying to keep herself from slapping Richard’s hands. Trying to keep from asking to see Cara.
She appreciated Richard’s presence and his love. Following her kidnapping and abuse, it almost felt smothering, though. She need time and space to recover herself.
She couldn’t contain her sigh of relief when they touched down in Helena. Richard solicitously carried her single small carry-on bag with the spare set of clothes they had picked up for her in Germany. Cara had followed them around the shopping district, looking jumping and glaring at everyone that got too close, but Kahlan couldn’t honestly remember the last word that she had heard Cara say. The blonde had been struck mute.
Cara didn’t accompany them to Aydindril. She got a rundown motel room on the outskirts of Helena and wrote the phone number for the place on the back of a receipt for Richard. He carefully slipped it into his wallet. If the two spoke, they didn’t do it in front of Kahlan, who stood in the doorway of the fleapit feeling lost. And then Richard was leading her back to the rental car, whistling to himself. They barely spoke at all during the drive to Aydindril. He commented on the weather and made small talk about old movies. She held his hand. She told herself over and over that she loved him.
He helped her clean up the house, spending a whole afternoon patching the bullet holes in the siding while Kahlan swept out and aired the interior. Her hands shook when she wiped down the kitchen table. She didn’t know where Cara was or what she was doing. It ate at the back of her mind. How long was Cara staying in Helena? Had she already headed somewhere else? Would she ever see her again?
When she tried asking Richard he just smiled and told her not to worry about Cara, the woman was good at taking care of herself. Kahlan certainly didn’t think so.
They made love the first night. It wasn’t unpleasant, and Kahlan felt safe held tight to Richard’s broad masculine chest. She didn’t feel as wildly out of control as she had beneath Cara’s ministrations. Was she relieved? She didn’t know.
The second day was the same as the first, except Kahlan went into the office. The FBI was swarming around City Hall. The Federal government had no interest in a case of terrorism so deep in the American interior gaining media attention. Kahlan could barely summon up the energy to smile at the insipid man in the black suit who talked at her over and over about how she could be prosecuted if she gave interviews.
Her chest felt empty and it ached when she was concentrating on nothing at all. Absently she took to rubbing her fist against her breastbone, trying to relieve the discomfort.
“I have a surprise for you, sweetheart,” Richard nearly bounced out of his chair like a small child with excitement when he announced that at dinner that night.
Dinner was extremely uncomfortable for Kahlan. She could not look directly at the surface of the table, which meant she had to make eyecontact with Richard. His sweet cluelessness was the only thing saving her. A more suspicious man would surely have noticed her faint blush. She dropped her spoon into her soup and folded her hands neatly in her lap, preparing for the surprise. Hopefully, it didn’t involve munitions or sudden movements.
“I’m going to take you on vacation. Really, like a honeymoon.” He leaned forward and reached into his back pocket pulling out a brochure for a beach resort in Florida which he handed to her. “I already made our reservations, and I thought we could head into the city to buy you a nice bikini.”
Kahlan visibly blanched as she took the promotional material. A vacation felt like the last thing she needed. She needed to hide in her bedroom and find a secret way to contact Cara or God. Maybe God could tell her what was wrong with her. And if she was in Florida, Cara wouldn’t be able to find her. That is, if Cara ever wanted to see her again.
That thought hit her like a hammer blow.
Cara probably didn’t want to be Kahlan’s piece of ass on the side.
“I don’t know, Richard-“
He steam rolled right through her objections. “Kahlan, you would look gorgeous out on the beach. You need to relax. We could go scuba-diving. I’ll take you to the nicest restaurants.” His eyebrows drew together as he studied her face. “Are you afraid? Afraid someone will hurt you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Cara was going to come. Like as a bodyguard. I know you’re already friends with her, so she won’t be intrusive.”
Kahlan actually gasped, her fist rising to rub against her breastbone again. She felt positively dizzy. Richard could be worse than a horde of Mord-Sith in his absolute naiveté.
“Have you ever considered that maybe Cara has better things to do than act as our bodyguard while we flit about in the sand and act romantic?”
It was obvious from Richard’s facial expression that he had not considered that possibility at all. Not that Richard was mean or unfeeling, just that in many ways he retained the self-centeredness of a young child. Considerations about other people’s feelings were several grades above his current level. Before, it had all seemed rather charming. Now, it grated against Kahlan’s own finely-attuned empathy.
“Cara’s still in Helena, and she hasn’t got anywhere else to go. I’m sure she’d love to see you again.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “But I’ll call her tomorrow and make sure its okay.”
The next day she could only hear one side of the phone conversation. Richard stood in the entryway, corded phone pressed to his ear while Kahlan tried to be inconspicuous about listening from just inside the kitchen. Cara appeared to have assented to his little plan. He grinned the entire time he talked.
And then Kahlan was on another plane. This time carting significantly more luggage - all new beach clothes and necessities that Richard had insisted on buying for her. They didn’t meet Cara before boarding, and Kahlan was still so scared to mention her in anything other than passing that she didn’t think to ask.
They boarded the plane and where just settling into their seats when Cara stepped through the door. Kahlan lost her breath. The blonde looked wan, but still exquisite. She had leather day bag slung over her shoulder and she was wearing the tightest jeans that Kahlan had ever witnessed - highlighting the flexing muscles of her thighs as she walked. Kahlan couldn’t help but stare.
Richard waved and Cara nodded at him as she passed, headed toward the back of the plane. Kahlan wanted to hit him for not paying for Cara to have a first class ticket too, but a fight in the middle of an airplane would be too embarrassing. She would wait until they got to Florida.
She listened for the first half of the flight to Richard listing every single thing he wanted to eat and drink once they finally arrived. It only took the tiniest fraction of her brain to keep track of what he was saying. Finally, she excused herself and slipped out of her seat to head for the bathroom.
The center aisle of the plane was small enough that she had to turn her hips sideways occasionally to avoid disturbing the other passengers as she passed. The single bathroom stall was occupied according to the little red plaque above the handle, so she resigned herself to the wait. The bathroom was tucked into an alcove, near where the stewardesses prepared the meals and the drinks they handed out on little metal carts. It was relatively secluded, so standing with her shoulder leaning against the wall left her mostly obscured from passengers, all who were sitting facing away from her anyway.
The sound of sure footsteps over the hum of the jet engines was unmistakable, like her body was perfectly attuned to the rhythm. They stopped just behind her. Cara was so close.
Her body reacted to Cara’s presence behind her before her mind fully caught up. She leaned back until she could just feel the heat of the other woman’s skin behind her, as if pulled like a magnet, and then snapped her head around - half-afraid she was about to molest a stranger. Cara was smiling at her, hands casually tucked into her pockets.
Words jammed up in Kahlan’s throat. Since meeting Cara she had really struggled with an uncharacteristic inability to verbally express herself adequately. The point became entirely moot a moment later when the bathroom’s current occupant, an older man, opened the door. He didn’t even seem to notice the pair of women as he limped past them, leaving them very much alone in the alcove.
Not unlike the first time, Kahlan wasn’t sure if she grabbed the front of Cara’s shirt in her fist first, or whether Cara set her hands on her waist and pushed her back toward the bathroom first. The order of events didn’t matter much as Cara kicked the bathroom door closed while fumbling with the button of Kahlan’s pants. Kahlan clung to the blonde, mouth moving feverishly against hers, moaning softly in the back of her throat at the absolute sensory overload.
The palm of Cara’s hand brushed against the skin of her lower belly as the other woman got her pants open enough that she could slide her hand down inside. Kahlan’s hips bucked and she was forced to muffle her pleased vocalizations by biting down hard on Cara’s neck.
“Oh fuck, Kahlan,” Cara groaned. Her free hand came up, wrapping itself in Kahlan’s silky hair and pulled her head back, disengaging her teeth. “Don’t leave a mark on me. He’ll get suspicious.”
Of course he wouldn’t, Kahlan knew that somewhere far back in that rational part of her mind that had been replaced as the controlling mechanism of her body by her over-zealous reptile brain. Richard was the least suspicious person on the planet, and he’d probably chock it up to Cara getting her card for the Mile High Club stamped by one of the stewardesses. He had mentioned Cara’s reputation to her in passing before. The sharp pain radiating across her scalp felt good, though, so she didn’t argue. Instead she began to rock her hips against Cara’s wandering fingers which were slowly exploring the folds of her sex.
Little gasping noises escaped Kahlan - she felt so thoroughly wanton that just the idea of their entire bathroom encounter mixed with Cara’s heated ministrations were sending her rocketing toward a new plane of sexual awareness. Cara’s fingers slipped from her hair and down caressing the side of her neck on their way, down between her breasts, down across her stomach to the hem of her shirt. And her shirt was being pulled up, and up until Cara could get her fingers under the edge of Kahlan’s bra and lifted until her breasts were free.
Kahlan braced her hands on either side of her against the walls of the narrow bathroom. Cara appeared to appreciate quite fully the free reign that gave her over Kahlan’s sweating, aroused body. She slipped two fingers deep into Kahlan’s slippery, slick core just at the moment that she bit down on one of Kahlan’s hardened nipples. Just a little too hard. It was perfect. She was going to orgasm. Her eyes dropped closed and bright lights played behind her eyelids.
“Kahlan, open your eyes,” Cara commanded softly, lifting her mouth from the breast she was tormenting. “Look at me. I want you to look at me when you come.” Kahlan immediately opened her eyes, making intense eye contact. “I want you to think about this when you’re on the beach with Richard in your little bikini. I want you to remember how tightly my fingers fill you and how quickly you lose control when I touch you.”
The words sent Kahlan spinning over the edge to a place where there was no Richard, and Cara was the only thing that mattered. Her inner muscles clenched, gripping Cara’s finger and pulled them into her further with each thrust. The sinews in her arms stood out in sharp contrast and she sobbed Cara’s name over and over again as she broke.
She finally came down to find herself held tight against Cara whose fingers were still inside of her. She groaned softly, pressing her face into Cara’s neck as the blonde slowly withdrew. Much to Cara’s shock, if her facial expression was any indication, Kahlan caught Cara’s wrist and drew her glistening fingers to her mouth, licking them clean one after the other with deliberately provocative swipes of her tongue.
“You know, Cara, you really should pack,” Kahlan whispered directly into her lovers ear, patting Cara’s groin to emphasize her point, before slipping around her and out the door. She didn’t look back on her way up the aisle and Richard didn’t ask what took so long in the bathroom. He was engrossed in the in-flight magazine.
She might be married to Richard, Kahlan mused, but at least Cara seemed to pay attention to her. Richard was not nearly so attentive to her needs, sexual or emotional.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: You call it chivalry, Never pull a punch for free
Damn, Cara ran her hand through her hair. -- the hand that had been in Kahlan’s mouth only a moment ago, and inside of other parts of Kahlan only moments before that. Cara was a big girl. A big, sexually experience girl, but there was something about that woman that she could barely handle. She was right with her first assessment though, Kahlan was too much woman for Richard to handle.
Cara took a moment to check herself in the little, smudged mirror. There weren’t any marks on her neck, which was a relief. All of the marks were on the inside - scratches directly on her heart. The long flight, preceded by the long stay in the most boring city in the world, Helena, had forced Cara to take a hard look at herself. She was cuckolding her best friend with the most passionate, beautiful creature on the planet. She was both awesome, for getting into someone like Kahlan’s pants, and terrible for doing that to Richard. The tension couldn’t last - this was not an equilibrium point but actually the eye of a raging storm. Soon, very soon, they would be moving out of the unnatural calm and into a hurricane.
She flashed a tight smile at the people waiting outside to use the bathroom and made her way back to her cramped seat. The fat man next to her was still snoring, as he had been doing since take-off. Cara had considered taking the peanuts from her complimentary snack and forcing them into the offender’s nostrils or trying to drop a few straight back into his open throat so that he would choke. She didn’t, however, she hoped he was allergic to peanuts, and rubbed them all over the armrest and his unopened laptop on the tray table in front of him.
Murdering her fellow passengers wouldn’t fix the problem. And it was really a very simple problem. To tell Richard that she had been knuckle deep in his wife a couple of times, or not to tell him. She had to pick once and for all. If she told him, maybe they could reconcile their friendship and it could force Kahlan to choose. The problem was, they might not reconcile, Richard might shoot her and Kahlan could very well choose her husband. If she didn’t tell him, she wouldn’t have to see him cry and she could continue having sex with Kahlan on the sly.
Gooey unpleasant emotions reared their head. She didn’t want Kahlan on the sly. For her, at least, it wasn’t just about sex. That was a huge part of it, but Cara had never allowed herself to sit for a week in a flea-infested motel in bum-fuck nowhere for any of her other sexual conquests.
She had also never sat on a plane, ridiculously aroused, next to a behemoth for anyone else either.
She spent the rest of the trip flirting shamelessly with the much older stewardess until she got her number. Cara had no intention of calling her. By the time they landed, she felt a bit better.
**
Cara surfed. She could practically feel Kahlan eyefucking her while she rode the waves. Cara scubadived. She noticed Kahlan licking her lips as Cara shimmied into the form-fitting wetsuit. Cara drank too much. Kahlan wasn’t there to witness that.
But the number one thing Cara did for the first three days in Florida was avoid Kahlan and Richard. Whatever Cara had unleashed in the airplane bathroom had apparently reached fruition in the honeymoon suite that Kahlan shared with Richard. They made it out onto the beach for maybe three or four hours a day, and the other twenty or so were spent making what sounded like pretty athletic monkey-love.
So Cara drank in the hotel bar until that got too expensive and she moved to a tourist bar a few blocks down near the beach front. When she got kicked out of there for being fresh with one of the waitresses, she moved to local dive off the beach where the lighting was low and there weren’t any waitresses to grope. By the fourth day of drinking too much as soon as the sun set, Cara got in a bar fight.
He was a large, ape of a man with thinning light colored hair covering his knobby skull. Cara had precipitated the confrontation with a few choice remarks about his mother. He did not appreciate the suggestion that his mother’s virtue may have been easy enough that he was fathered by a billy goat. Roaring like an enraged zoo animal, he broke his pool cue across the table and charge at her, homemade spear raised.
She was drunk but it had never impaired her fighting ability, and now was no exception. Violence was ingrained in every sinew and fiber of Cara’s being. Literally, it had been beaten into her. A roundhouse kick disarmed the man and a solid shot to his solar plexus sent him reeling to his knees, wheezing like a stuck pig.
The natives were getting restless by this time, and Cara beat a hasty retreat. She arrived at her room , adjacent to the honeymoon suite, still pumped with adrenaline and earlier than she had the nights before. It appeared from the extremely loud noises that Richard and Kahlan were mid-coitus.
Cara’s beer soaked brain snapped. It was bad enough her friend wanted to rub his happiness in her face by asking her to act like the hired help and make sure nothing happened to him on his little vacation. But he was rubbing it in her face by fucking the woman she loved. Not. Acceptable.
It was this point that a meteorologist could have pinpointed on a weather map as the landfall of Hurricane Mason. She stomped out of her room and down the hall the few steps it took to place her in front of the door to her friends’ room. Knocking was for people with manners. Cara would not have allowed herself, under any circumstances, to be considered such a person, especially not at that moment. One well-placed kicked just above the door latch sent the door spinning open.
Richard tangled in the sheets and fell off the bed, effectively exposing a very naked Kahlan. Cara stepped into the room, slamming the door behind her. “Richard. I fucked your wife. More than once. And she liked it.” Each word came out louder than the one preceding it. “Now, I would APPRECIATE it if you got a different one, and left this one to me!”
She had been rushed, following their return to Hartland, into some sort of debriefing procedure. She could tell them nothing except that Mord-Sith were terrible cooks, had uncomfortable uniforms and really liked to hit people. She assumed that none of that was news. Her head had only just stopped spinning when Richard pushed her into a shiny black Humvee and whisked her to a waiting Army jet, where they flew, accompanied by a silent and stony-faced Cara to Rammstein in Germany where they caught a commercial flight back to the States. Where she was sitting. Trying to keep herself from slapping Richard’s hands. Trying to keep from asking to see Cara.
She appreciated Richard’s presence and his love. Following her kidnapping and abuse, it almost felt smothering, though. She need time and space to recover herself.
She couldn’t contain her sigh of relief when they touched down in Helena. Richard solicitously carried her single small carry-on bag with the spare set of clothes they had picked up for her in Germany. Cara had followed them around the shopping district, looking jumping and glaring at everyone that got too close, but Kahlan couldn’t honestly remember the last word that she had heard Cara say. The blonde had been struck mute.
Cara didn’t accompany them to Aydindril. She got a rundown motel room on the outskirts of Helena and wrote the phone number for the place on the back of a receipt for Richard. He carefully slipped it into his wallet. If the two spoke, they didn’t do it in front of Kahlan, who stood in the doorway of the fleapit feeling lost. And then Richard was leading her back to the rental car, whistling to himself. They barely spoke at all during the drive to Aydindril. He commented on the weather and made small talk about old movies. She held his hand. She told herself over and over that she loved him.
He helped her clean up the house, spending a whole afternoon patching the bullet holes in the siding while Kahlan swept out and aired the interior. Her hands shook when she wiped down the kitchen table. She didn’t know where Cara was or what she was doing. It ate at the back of her mind. How long was Cara staying in Helena? Had she already headed somewhere else? Would she ever see her again?
When she tried asking Richard he just smiled and told her not to worry about Cara, the woman was good at taking care of herself. Kahlan certainly didn’t think so.
They made love the first night. It wasn’t unpleasant, and Kahlan felt safe held tight to Richard’s broad masculine chest. She didn’t feel as wildly out of control as she had beneath Cara’s ministrations. Was she relieved? She didn’t know.
The second day was the same as the first, except Kahlan went into the office. The FBI was swarming around City Hall. The Federal government had no interest in a case of terrorism so deep in the American interior gaining media attention. Kahlan could barely summon up the energy to smile at the insipid man in the black suit who talked at her over and over about how she could be prosecuted if she gave interviews.
Her chest felt empty and it ached when she was concentrating on nothing at all. Absently she took to rubbing her fist against her breastbone, trying to relieve the discomfort.
“I have a surprise for you, sweetheart,” Richard nearly bounced out of his chair like a small child with excitement when he announced that at dinner that night.
Dinner was extremely uncomfortable for Kahlan. She could not look directly at the surface of the table, which meant she had to make eyecontact with Richard. His sweet cluelessness was the only thing saving her. A more suspicious man would surely have noticed her faint blush. She dropped her spoon into her soup and folded her hands neatly in her lap, preparing for the surprise. Hopefully, it didn’t involve munitions or sudden movements.
“I’m going to take you on vacation. Really, like a honeymoon.” He leaned forward and reached into his back pocket pulling out a brochure for a beach resort in Florida which he handed to her. “I already made our reservations, and I thought we could head into the city to buy you a nice bikini.”
Kahlan visibly blanched as she took the promotional material. A vacation felt like the last thing she needed. She needed to hide in her bedroom and find a secret way to contact Cara or God. Maybe God could tell her what was wrong with her. And if she was in Florida, Cara wouldn’t be able to find her. That is, if Cara ever wanted to see her again.
That thought hit her like a hammer blow.
Cara probably didn’t want to be Kahlan’s piece of ass on the side.
“I don’t know, Richard-“
He steam rolled right through her objections. “Kahlan, you would look gorgeous out on the beach. You need to relax. We could go scuba-diving. I’ll take you to the nicest restaurants.” His eyebrows drew together as he studied her face. “Are you afraid? Afraid someone will hurt you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Cara was going to come. Like as a bodyguard. I know you’re already friends with her, so she won’t be intrusive.”
Kahlan actually gasped, her fist rising to rub against her breastbone again. She felt positively dizzy. Richard could be worse than a horde of Mord-Sith in his absolute naiveté.
“Have you ever considered that maybe Cara has better things to do than act as our bodyguard while we flit about in the sand and act romantic?”
It was obvious from Richard’s facial expression that he had not considered that possibility at all. Not that Richard was mean or unfeeling, just that in many ways he retained the self-centeredness of a young child. Considerations about other people’s feelings were several grades above his current level. Before, it had all seemed rather charming. Now, it grated against Kahlan’s own finely-attuned empathy.
“Cara’s still in Helena, and she hasn’t got anywhere else to go. I’m sure she’d love to see you again.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “But I’ll call her tomorrow and make sure its okay.”
The next day she could only hear one side of the phone conversation. Richard stood in the entryway, corded phone pressed to his ear while Kahlan tried to be inconspicuous about listening from just inside the kitchen. Cara appeared to have assented to his little plan. He grinned the entire time he talked.
And then Kahlan was on another plane. This time carting significantly more luggage - all new beach clothes and necessities that Richard had insisted on buying for her. They didn’t meet Cara before boarding, and Kahlan was still so scared to mention her in anything other than passing that she didn’t think to ask.
They boarded the plane and where just settling into their seats when Cara stepped through the door. Kahlan lost her breath. The blonde looked wan, but still exquisite. She had leather day bag slung over her shoulder and she was wearing the tightest jeans that Kahlan had ever witnessed - highlighting the flexing muscles of her thighs as she walked. Kahlan couldn’t help but stare.
Richard waved and Cara nodded at him as she passed, headed toward the back of the plane. Kahlan wanted to hit him for not paying for Cara to have a first class ticket too, but a fight in the middle of an airplane would be too embarrassing. She would wait until they got to Florida.
She listened for the first half of the flight to Richard listing every single thing he wanted to eat and drink once they finally arrived. It only took the tiniest fraction of her brain to keep track of what he was saying. Finally, she excused herself and slipped out of her seat to head for the bathroom.
The center aisle of the plane was small enough that she had to turn her hips sideways occasionally to avoid disturbing the other passengers as she passed. The single bathroom stall was occupied according to the little red plaque above the handle, so she resigned herself to the wait. The bathroom was tucked into an alcove, near where the stewardesses prepared the meals and the drinks they handed out on little metal carts. It was relatively secluded, so standing with her shoulder leaning against the wall left her mostly obscured from passengers, all who were sitting facing away from her anyway.
The sound of sure footsteps over the hum of the jet engines was unmistakable, like her body was perfectly attuned to the rhythm. They stopped just behind her. Cara was so close.
Her body reacted to Cara’s presence behind her before her mind fully caught up. She leaned back until she could just feel the heat of the other woman’s skin behind her, as if pulled like a magnet, and then snapped her head around - half-afraid she was about to molest a stranger. Cara was smiling at her, hands casually tucked into her pockets.
Words jammed up in Kahlan’s throat. Since meeting Cara she had really struggled with an uncharacteristic inability to verbally express herself adequately. The point became entirely moot a moment later when the bathroom’s current occupant, an older man, opened the door. He didn’t even seem to notice the pair of women as he limped past them, leaving them very much alone in the alcove.
Not unlike the first time, Kahlan wasn’t sure if she grabbed the front of Cara’s shirt in her fist first, or whether Cara set her hands on her waist and pushed her back toward the bathroom first. The order of events didn’t matter much as Cara kicked the bathroom door closed while fumbling with the button of Kahlan’s pants. Kahlan clung to the blonde, mouth moving feverishly against hers, moaning softly in the back of her throat at the absolute sensory overload.
The palm of Cara’s hand brushed against the skin of her lower belly as the other woman got her pants open enough that she could slide her hand down inside. Kahlan’s hips bucked and she was forced to muffle her pleased vocalizations by biting down hard on Cara’s neck.
“Oh fuck, Kahlan,” Cara groaned. Her free hand came up, wrapping itself in Kahlan’s silky hair and pulled her head back, disengaging her teeth. “Don’t leave a mark on me. He’ll get suspicious.”
Of course he wouldn’t, Kahlan knew that somewhere far back in that rational part of her mind that had been replaced as the controlling mechanism of her body by her over-zealous reptile brain. Richard was the least suspicious person on the planet, and he’d probably chock it up to Cara getting her card for the Mile High Club stamped by one of the stewardesses. He had mentioned Cara’s reputation to her in passing before. The sharp pain radiating across her scalp felt good, though, so she didn’t argue. Instead she began to rock her hips against Cara’s wandering fingers which were slowly exploring the folds of her sex.
Little gasping noises escaped Kahlan - she felt so thoroughly wanton that just the idea of their entire bathroom encounter mixed with Cara’s heated ministrations were sending her rocketing toward a new plane of sexual awareness. Cara’s fingers slipped from her hair and down caressing the side of her neck on their way, down between her breasts, down across her stomach to the hem of her shirt. And her shirt was being pulled up, and up until Cara could get her fingers under the edge of Kahlan’s bra and lifted until her breasts were free.
Kahlan braced her hands on either side of her against the walls of the narrow bathroom. Cara appeared to appreciate quite fully the free reign that gave her over Kahlan’s sweating, aroused body. She slipped two fingers deep into Kahlan’s slippery, slick core just at the moment that she bit down on one of Kahlan’s hardened nipples. Just a little too hard. It was perfect. She was going to orgasm. Her eyes dropped closed and bright lights played behind her eyelids.
“Kahlan, open your eyes,” Cara commanded softly, lifting her mouth from the breast she was tormenting. “Look at me. I want you to look at me when you come.” Kahlan immediately opened her eyes, making intense eye contact. “I want you to think about this when you’re on the beach with Richard in your little bikini. I want you to remember how tightly my fingers fill you and how quickly you lose control when I touch you.”
The words sent Kahlan spinning over the edge to a place where there was no Richard, and Cara was the only thing that mattered. Her inner muscles clenched, gripping Cara’s finger and pulled them into her further with each thrust. The sinews in her arms stood out in sharp contrast and she sobbed Cara’s name over and over again as she broke.
She finally came down to find herself held tight against Cara whose fingers were still inside of her. She groaned softly, pressing her face into Cara’s neck as the blonde slowly withdrew. Much to Cara’s shock, if her facial expression was any indication, Kahlan caught Cara’s wrist and drew her glistening fingers to her mouth, licking them clean one after the other with deliberately provocative swipes of her tongue.
“You know, Cara, you really should pack,” Kahlan whispered directly into her lovers ear, patting Cara’s groin to emphasize her point, before slipping around her and out the door. She didn’t look back on her way up the aisle and Richard didn’t ask what took so long in the bathroom. He was engrossed in the in-flight magazine.
She might be married to Richard, Kahlan mused, but at least Cara seemed to pay attention to her. Richard was not nearly so attentive to her needs, sexual or emotional.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: You call it chivalry, Never pull a punch for free
Damn, Cara ran her hand through her hair. -- the hand that had been in Kahlan’s mouth only a moment ago, and inside of other parts of Kahlan only moments before that. Cara was a big girl. A big, sexually experience girl, but there was something about that woman that she could barely handle. She was right with her first assessment though, Kahlan was too much woman for Richard to handle.
Cara took a moment to check herself in the little, smudged mirror. There weren’t any marks on her neck, which was a relief. All of the marks were on the inside - scratches directly on her heart. The long flight, preceded by the long stay in the most boring city in the world, Helena, had forced Cara to take a hard look at herself. She was cuckolding her best friend with the most passionate, beautiful creature on the planet. She was both awesome, for getting into someone like Kahlan’s pants, and terrible for doing that to Richard. The tension couldn’t last - this was not an equilibrium point but actually the eye of a raging storm. Soon, very soon, they would be moving out of the unnatural calm and into a hurricane.
She flashed a tight smile at the people waiting outside to use the bathroom and made her way back to her cramped seat. The fat man next to her was still snoring, as he had been doing since take-off. Cara had considered taking the peanuts from her complimentary snack and forcing them into the offender’s nostrils or trying to drop a few straight back into his open throat so that he would choke. She didn’t, however, she hoped he was allergic to peanuts, and rubbed them all over the armrest and his unopened laptop on the tray table in front of him.
Murdering her fellow passengers wouldn’t fix the problem. And it was really a very simple problem. To tell Richard that she had been knuckle deep in his wife a couple of times, or not to tell him. She had to pick once and for all. If she told him, maybe they could reconcile their friendship and it could force Kahlan to choose. The problem was, they might not reconcile, Richard might shoot her and Kahlan could very well choose her husband. If she didn’t tell him, she wouldn’t have to see him cry and she could continue having sex with Kahlan on the sly.
Gooey unpleasant emotions reared their head. She didn’t want Kahlan on the sly. For her, at least, it wasn’t just about sex. That was a huge part of it, but Cara had never allowed herself to sit for a week in a flea-infested motel in bum-fuck nowhere for any of her other sexual conquests.
She had also never sat on a plane, ridiculously aroused, next to a behemoth for anyone else either.
She spent the rest of the trip flirting shamelessly with the much older stewardess until she got her number. Cara had no intention of calling her. By the time they landed, she felt a bit better.
**
Cara surfed. She could practically feel Kahlan eyefucking her while she rode the waves. Cara scubadived. She noticed Kahlan licking her lips as Cara shimmied into the form-fitting wetsuit. Cara drank too much. Kahlan wasn’t there to witness that.
But the number one thing Cara did for the first three days in Florida was avoid Kahlan and Richard. Whatever Cara had unleashed in the airplane bathroom had apparently reached fruition in the honeymoon suite that Kahlan shared with Richard. They made it out onto the beach for maybe three or four hours a day, and the other twenty or so were spent making what sounded like pretty athletic monkey-love.
So Cara drank in the hotel bar until that got too expensive and she moved to a tourist bar a few blocks down near the beach front. When she got kicked out of there for being fresh with one of the waitresses, she moved to local dive off the beach where the lighting was low and there weren’t any waitresses to grope. By the fourth day of drinking too much as soon as the sun set, Cara got in a bar fight.
He was a large, ape of a man with thinning light colored hair covering his knobby skull. Cara had precipitated the confrontation with a few choice remarks about his mother. He did not appreciate the suggestion that his mother’s virtue may have been easy enough that he was fathered by a billy goat. Roaring like an enraged zoo animal, he broke his pool cue across the table and charge at her, homemade spear raised.
She was drunk but it had never impaired her fighting ability, and now was no exception. Violence was ingrained in every sinew and fiber of Cara’s being. Literally, it had been beaten into her. A roundhouse kick disarmed the man and a solid shot to his solar plexus sent him reeling to his knees, wheezing like a stuck pig.
The natives were getting restless by this time, and Cara beat a hasty retreat. She arrived at her room , adjacent to the honeymoon suite, still pumped with adrenaline and earlier than she had the nights before. It appeared from the extremely loud noises that Richard and Kahlan were mid-coitus.
Cara’s beer soaked brain snapped. It was bad enough her friend wanted to rub his happiness in her face by asking her to act like the hired help and make sure nothing happened to him on his little vacation. But he was rubbing it in her face by fucking the woman she loved. Not. Acceptable.
It was this point that a meteorologist could have pinpointed on a weather map as the landfall of Hurricane Mason. She stomped out of her room and down the hall the few steps it took to place her in front of the door to her friends’ room. Knocking was for people with manners. Cara would not have allowed herself, under any circumstances, to be considered such a person, especially not at that moment. One well-placed kicked just above the door latch sent the door spinning open.
Richard tangled in the sheets and fell off the bed, effectively exposing a very naked Kahlan. Cara stepped into the room, slamming the door behind her. “Richard. I fucked your wife. More than once. And she liked it.” Each word came out louder than the one preceding it. “Now, I would APPRECIATE it if you got a different one, and left this one to me!”