Climacteric

(n.) a critical time in a person's life; any critical turning point

Hate sex —But they really don't hate each other

Two weeks. The equivalent to fourteen days, three hundred and thirty six hours, twenty thousand one hundred and sixty minutes, or 1,209,600 seconds. It had been two agonizing weeks since Emma had last had contact with a certain Regina Mills. It wasn't that Emma hadn't tried to reach out, but that Regina ignored her. There were numerous unresponded text messages, missed calls, and at least ten voicemails. But, after eight days of no contact, Emma gave up. Despite that, the time blurred by, only due to the fact that the blonde was hardly sober, and her nights were occupied with various men and women. She gladly overworked, booking at least three clients per night and never remembering their names by the time she met the next. Andrè never voiced his concern about her switch in behavior, but Emma assumed that was because he knew better, just as all of her coworkers did.

What made matters worse was that Regina was still contacting Carmen, a piece of information that Emma only knew from eavesdropping. She hadn't ever asked for Emma, but requested the presence of another: dark hair, legs for days, and slutty clothes, aka Ruby. Every person at Carmen knew of this; the brunette's nightly visits to Regina Mills, but no one was brave enough to tell Emma, though she already knew. It pained Emma, knowing that the raven haired beauty had moved on so effortlessly. The sheer thought that Ruby buried her mouth between olive thighs caused the blonde's blood to boil underneath her skin. She wanted to kill her ex best friend, beat her for giving countless orgasms to Regina when it should have been her doing so.

But, Emma coped with the news. And by coped, she meant she clouded her judgment with alcohol and meaningless sex for profit.

"I look horrible." She muttered internally, running her fingers over her cheekbones and under eyes. Her reflection mocked her; pale eyes, blotchy skin, and bags underneath her lash line. At least her teeth were brushed; she had that going for her.

The dressing room was clear of people, all except Ruby, who was getting ready--no doubt for Regina--on the opposite side of the room. Emma ignored her as best she could, brushing her knotted, dry hair in attempts to distract herself, but it didn't stop the anger that was coursing through her. She knew she should keep her mouth shut.

But she didn't.

"You stabbed me in the back."

Emma directed her gaze in the mirror, staring at the reflection of the brunette, who now turned around to face her. Ruby was beautiful, Emma couldn't deny that, but she wasn't good enough for Regina. Regina was Emma's, even though claiming ownership of the woman wasn't the best idea, but it was what she desired. Morning-breath kisses, maybe kids, coffee dates, wedding vows if Regina agreed: Emma wanted a future with the dominant woman, and she'd be damned if Ruby stood in the way of that.

But, what if Regina didn't want her. What if Emma had made this all up in her imagination. What if the older woman wanted the brunette escort over the blonde. What if she was happy? Then, Emma would be forced to let go of the fantasies she had conjured.

She had to try, that was the least she could do.

The brunette responded, confused, "What?"

Emma finally turned around from her seat and stood, facing her current newly conceived enemy. "You're fucking her." She spat the words, rage building further.

"Em, I can ex--"

"I don't fucking want your explanations, I want you to stop fucking Regina! She's mine." Her anger boiled over, and every honest, yet harsh reality came to life. Soon she was standing, feet firmly in place. "The only thing I can think about is her, but what makes it worse is it's you between her thighs, not me.

"And you don't even care about her! God, as long as you get paid, you don't care who you sleep with, but Regina's not someone who can be fucked with like that. As much of a bitch as she can be, she deserves someone who cares about her, not a slut worried about the cash she makes."

Emma started to lose steam about the time she referred to Regina as a bitch, and when she called Ruby a slut, she almost regretted it. Almost.

The brunette escort rose from her seat and calmly approached the blonde. Her face was unreadable, and her eyes almost looked saddened rather than enraged. The young woman feared that Ruby would knock her lights out, tell her off as she already did, or spit in her direction. She wasn't sure, and the silence that the other prostitute gave worried Emma further.

Emma stiffened when Ruby met her gaze, looking directly at her. She was still as the woman leaned in, and grew more rigid when she embraced her. An awkward silence echoed in Emma's ears as she sat there, not sure if she should be joyful that she doesn't have a black eye, or angry that Ruby was hugging her as if the past two minutes hadn't happened.

The brunette didn't stop, and as much rage as Emma held, she found herself reciprocating the hug. As soon as she did that, the loathing melted away, soon replaced with her true feelings; sorrow and a less than mild form of depression. Walls that the blonde had built up crumbled, tears falling simultaneously with the poorly built walls.

"Wh-why," Emma croaked, sobs stuck in he throat, "did you, "

Ruby shushed her, caressing her back, and in that moment, Emma felt safe despite the hole pierced into her heart. The blonde clung to her friend. She let her emotions escape and soon, she was empty, but this was different. Without the anger she felt towards Ruby and Regina, Emma felt hollow, like she was missing something, or more appropriately, someone.

When Emma fell silent minus a few hiccup-y breaths, the young brunette spoke. "I didn't sleep with her." The blonde didn't respond, so Ruby continued. "When she first called, she tried to, but for some reason, she wouldn't. So, we talked instead." Ruby rubbed Emma's back in soothing circles, her voice hesitant. "Regina makes dinner when I come over, and we talk. That's all we do, Ems, I promise."

Emma pulled away, rubbing her face as if she had just woken up. "Does she talk about me?" He voice was so small, vulnerable, a tone Ruby had never heard before. "Does she even miss me?"

She wasn't sure if she wanted the answer or not, because if Regina didn't miss her, then Emma had no reason to even try with the woman.

"She doesn't say it, but yeah, she does."

Hope began to creep into Emma's stomach, building until she practically choked on the feeling. Regina missed her, and that meant that she felt something for Emma. But if she does miss her, why has Regina not returned her texts or calls? Why was she avoiding her? The blonde prostitute released her grip on Ruby and sat back down with a huff. She wasn't sure how to approach the situation. If anything, she wanted to storm into Regina's hotel room and demand that they talk. And even if she managed that, Regina Mills was a stubborn woman when she wanted to be. Or all the time, Emma thought.

She was snapped out of her mind by a literal snap. Ruby had walked to her bag and pulled out a keycard before returning without Emma even noticing. The brunette handed the black card to her, a small smile on her lips. "Be there at seven."

"What?" Emma stuttered, unsure of how to respond.

"Go fight for her. It's obvious that she misses you. Figure out a way to make her listen."

Gratitude rushed over the blonde. She wasn't sure how she'd ever repay Ruby, especially when she had been so horrible to her. "Ruby, I'm-"

"No need," the taller woman shrugged, "I forgive you, and I probably would have reacted the same way if I was in your position." She then snickered, an impish gleam in her eyes. "I probably would have knocked you senseless."

Emma smiled, many emotions flooding her. She couldn't respond, so she nodded to express her thankfulness. Ruby caught it immediately, and winked, grabbing her bags in the process. "Go get your woman," and she left.

The blonde looked back in the mirror, determination in her icy eyes. She would get her woman, no matter what.

Hours later, and Emma was standing in an all too familiar elevator. She was dressed almost casually: blue jeans, white blouse, and black board shoes. Her hair was natural, falling down her shoulders with loose waves at the ends. And she only put enough makeup on to cover the fact that she neglected her body for the past two weeks. All in all, she looked okay, but she felt better.

Oh, who was she kidding? Emma's knees were weak, her hands were shaking, and it felt like her heart had fallen into her stomach, and her stomach had jumped to her throat. She was nauseous and insecurities filled her unstable mind. Every possible scenario danced on the top of Emma's brain, and she worried that this "mission" of hers was doomed from the start. Regina had obviously avoided her for a reason, and just because Emma wanted to talk, didn't mean Regina did. What if the woman kicked her out? Called the police? Filed a restraining order?

Emma wouldn't be able to bear it.

Grow a fucking pair, Swan, she internally hissed, or tried to. Hissing was Regina's specialty after all, not hers.

She pulled out her cellphone, texting Ruby a quick thank you. Before she put it away, she sent out another message. To André.

I quit.

The elevator doors opened with a shrill ding, and Emma got out, pocketing her phone. Her body followed routine, walking down the hallway until she reached Regina's room. All the while, Emma was unsteady. She walked as if she was drunk, almost stumbling over her own feet. Thankful, she wasn't, but she couldn't help but think about how she wished she had some liquid courage.

She stood in front of the door, and slowly grabbed the keycard out of her back pocket. Before she could truly recognize how instinctual her behavior was, the scanner on the door recognized the card and the door unlocked with a click.

"Ruby!" Regina's voice echoed through the room, and the smell of spicy filled Emma's nostrils as she entered. "You're early. Are you coming down with a cold dear?" Her tone was so playful that for once, Emma wished she was Ruby. She longed for Regina to speak to her like that again.

Impersonating the brunette as much as possible, Emma responded, sliding her shoes off and leaving them in the hallway. "No, I'm okay."

"Are you sure? You sound as if you just returned from singing in an alternative band."

Emma took long, yet cautious strides down the hall, stopping to look in the kitchen. And her heart stopped.

Regina stood in front of the stove with her back to the blonde. Her raven hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck, and some sort of stretchy pants covered her legs while an ancient-looking tee-shirt hung off of her shoulder, revealing a small portion of olive skin. She looked so domestic, and god, so beautiful. And her ass looked perfect. The pants clung to the skin, creating the best view Emma could possibly have. She also assumed the woman didn't have makeup on, if her outfit was any indication. Either way, she was frozen in place, nervous and gawking at the beauty before her.

"I hope you're hungry. I found a spicy Thai noodle recipe in my mother's old cookbook, and I figured we could try--"

Regina glanced behind her, one hand on her hip while the other held a wooden spoon. She looked shocked, dark eyes wide with astonishment before they clouded with anger, a look Emma knew all to well as it was the same look that Regina had given her two weeks ago. It was the look that Emma could not stop remembering.

"Get out."

Her voice was low and thick, and for lack of a better word, dangerous. It was laced with an unbelievable amount of hatred and distrust. To be completely honest, Emma was afraid, but she stood her ground, taking a few steps into the room.

"Regina-"

"Get out!" She yelled, throwing the spoon to the ground. "Get out of my sight!"

Emma took another step, and as soon as she started to take a second, Regina lunged towards the younger woman, grabbing her delicate throat.

"Miss Swan, if you do not leave," she hissed, spitting venom, "I will gladly carve your tongue out and force it down your precious throat."

Raising a brow at the threat, Emma took it as lightly as any normal person would, but there was a certain level of fear instilled in her if any of their previous "meetings" were any indication. Regina was slightly unpredictable, and that threw Emma.

She stopped moving, holding her hands in the air as she tried to reason with the dark haired woman. "Okay." she spoke softly, mainly due to the hand at her throat, "But Regina, please listen--"

"Final warning, Miss Swan."

Blue eyes drowned into chocolate ones, and Emma's voice got softer than it has ever been. "I missed you."

The older woman's grip softened a hair, and her eyes lightened before flashing back to anger, only slightly lesser this time. "Emma," Regina growled, though the name came out shaky.

"I'm serious," Emma pleaded, "I missed you. A lot. I tried not to, but I couldn't. You've been the only thing on my mind."

Regina's shoulders slumped down from their previously rigid position, and her hand finally released its grip on the pale neck. Emma surged forward, bringing the woman closer and holding her as if she were home. She breathed in the woman's scent, remembering the unique smell Regina had. She would love to get drunk on it, completely intoxicated by the natural scent of Regina Mills. Emma continued to hold her, even when Regina began pushing away.

"Let me go, Miss Swan."

"No, thank you," she replied, smart-ass as usual, but she wasn't willing to let her go, not yet at least.

Regina's voice was laced with annoyance and rising aggravation. "Emma."

That caused the blonde to hold tighter. "I missed hearing you say my name, R'gina."

She snorted, and Emma assumed that the woman rolled her eyes as well. "I'm surprised you even remembered my name considering the number of beds you've warmed since you left me."

It was Emma's turn to roll her eyes. "You wouldn't even let me explain." She finally released the dominant woman, and when she looked at her, she was met with an unusually vulnerable Regina. Honestly, she just wanted to wrap her arms around the raven haired beauty, and force her to forget everything, but she knew life, and Regina, didn't work like that.

"How many women did you sleep with?" Her voice was harsh, but lacked the usual snark. A frustrated laugh settled in the back of Regina's throat. "Or do you prefer male companions now? How many did you give permission to fuck you?"

Emma stood stoic, taking the tongue lashing that she probably deserved, and that Regina needed to give.

The older woman pushed the blonde back, stomping forward with her until Emma collided with the wall. "More than five?"

She nodded, only adding to the ball of fury that was Regina Mills.

"Ten?"

The blonde nodded.

Regina looked like her blood was boiling. She pushed the blonde further into the wall, as if that was truly possible, and pressed her olive nose against a pale one. "Did you like it? Having your cunt filled?" She jumped into more questions, as if she really wanted Emma to answer them when the blonde knew she didn't. "I'm sure you did. Did you cum for them like you do for me? Hm?"

Plump lips brushed the shell of Emma's ear, and she shivered. Despite the fact that she knew Regina was upset with her, she couldn't stop the arousal that was pooling in her panties. Dominant and jealous Regina was her favorite, by far.

"Did you even cum?"

Emma shook her head. No one she slept with, male or female, had made her cum. She didn't even masturbate when she got home; simply drank and passed out. Two weeks had passed since Emma had satisfying sex and an orgasm, and she was definitely feeling the withdrawal now.

A soft, warm tongue flicked her earlobe. "Tell me, my dear Em-ma, did you think of me?"

When she didn't respond, Regina's hand returned to its previous place on her neck. "Em-ma," she purred.

Licking her lips, Emma relented. "Yes," she murmured, "I wished they were you. Every single one of them."

The hand released and teeth scraped from underneath the prostitute's earlobe to the base of her neck, settling there with a ravenous bite. The blonde arched off the wall, pressing her chest into Regina's. She reached forward, clawing at the raven haired woman's back, desperate to cling to something. Warm lips traveled back up the column of Emma's neck, and lined her jaw with sloppy pecks before capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Emma melted into the contact, welcoming the demanding tongue that pillaged her mouth like a thief in a village. She welcomed needy hands that raked up her sides before grabbing fistfuls of blonde hair. And she gratefully welcomed the knee pressed between her thighs, providing only enough friction to tease her.

"I meant nothing more than a paycheck to you," Regina hissed between kisses, hands still tangled in golden hair. "And that's how I plan to treat you."

Emma started to rebuttal. She wanted to tell the woman how wrong she was, but was cut off by another tongue-filled kiss and more pressure between her thighs. Regina's hands pulled at her blouse, forcing the fabric apart at the expense of two buttons. The fabric was yanked off pale skin, but before it had time to collide with the floor, Regina was squatting, beginning the process of removing her jeans. Her motives were not gentle. Manicured nails raked down toned thighs as they were exposed, leaving furious scarlet lines.

Tossing her head back, Emma groaned in a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure. She probably deserved this, and hell, she enjoyed it, but that didn't stop the growing desire she had to pick Regina up, make love with her, and force the woman to realize that she had missed her. Not only that she missed her, but she liked her. Regina I'm an Asshole Sometimes but I like Cuddling with Emma Swan Mills deserved love, and Emma wanted to fill that position.

Emma's nicest panties--a satin, teal colored thong--were shredded as soon as her jeans were removed, ripped apart at both hips and flung down the hall. She almost spoke up about it: how those were the panties she got on sale (and the only ones she owned that weren't cotton) but figured against it. If she were to say something, Regina's rebuttal would be that of how they are insignificant compared to what she owed Regina for walking out two weeks ago. It would be fighting a losing battle, so she stayed silent, lip between her teeth as she watched the woman of her dreams (and nightmares) eye-level with her crotch. She knew it didn't look its best; a patch of triangle shaped hair being the only thing she had on an otherwise bald pussy, but she hoped her woman wouldn't mind.

A warm palm smacked against her cunt once, twice, and thrice, each eliciting a helpless yelp. The blonde dug her nails into the wall behind her to prevent her hands from grabbing dark hair. If she were to do that, Regina would not be happy, and the situation would probably be made worse.

"Hush, Miss Swan." The woman chastised, gliding up Emma's body like a serpent.

She reached behind the blonde with one hand, skillfully unclasping and removing her plain, nude bra. Before cool air could greet overheated nipples, Regina viciously dug into the mounds of flesh with the tips of her nails, a hard nipple pressed against
both of her palms.

Emma growled, "Fuck," and bucked her hips against the air. Arousal was pooling between her thighs, and she could feel the mixture of arousal and sweat sticking to her skin.

"That is what I plan to do, dear."

That sass; Emma almost missed it.

Ready to respond, the escort opened her mouth, but was shushed once again, this time by greedy lips. Her eyes shut instantly, loosing herself in the feeling of Regina pressed against her. Her hands found purchase on curved hips, fingers drawing slow circles on smooth, olive skin. Regina seemed to find no fault in this, as she moved closer, lifting her knee back to its previously welcome place between pale thighs. Their kiss was almost sweet, but something told Emma that this was going to be the most gentle part of the night.

Breaking apart for air, the politician took advantage of Emma's disorientation, taking hold of slender wrists and pulling her towards the bed. Once near, Emma stood in front of Regina, unsure of what was happening next. She didn't wait long as the woman wrapped one leg around the blonde and kicked the back of her knees, forcing Emma to drop to the ground. Hitting with a thump, Emma was sure that she would have bruises come morning, but that didn't matter. What mattered was once she looked up from her new position, she was greeted with an undressing Regina. She started with her shirt, revealing taut, olive skin and a lack of bra. Dusky, nipples stood at attention, and Emma could only imagine wrapping her lips around them once again.

Regina sat on the bed, a wicked smirk on her sinful lips. Emma held her gaze from the floor, watching as the woman effortless removed her pants, and spread her legs. Now eye level with her cunt, the prostitute gasped audibly. Regina wasn't wearing any underwear.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Sharp nails dug into Emma's scalp, pulling her closer by blonde tresses. "Get to work, Miss Swan," the older woman husked, opening her legs impossibly wide and forcing a certain blonde into her pussy.

A delicious mixture of instinct and desire fueled Emma's first lick. She moaned into silken folds, reminiscent of the savory taste that was only Regina Mills. Her tongue worked, running up and down, left to right, and curling into every fold. The blonde would gladly lick and suck every ounce of arousal that coated the dominant woman's cunt.

"Oh, Emma," the raven haired woman gasped, encouraging her with soft moans.

Emma knew what Regina liked; knew how if she sucked on her clit, pulsing every so often, that she would orgasm delightfully quickly. She knew that pressing two fingers just barely filled the woman's tight pussy, but three stretched her so deliciously and she'd cry out like a slut, velvet walls gripping slim fingers. The blonde was well aware of every sound that passed sinful lips and what they indicated. Harsh breathy gasps were meant for encouragement—Regina wanted more. Soft mewls were stuck between pre and post-orgasm . And strangled, almost silent whimpers or absurdly loud declarations were mid-orgasm. Strong thighs would tighten, and her taut abdomen would strain against the pressure, every muscle pushing and pulling until Regina's chest heaved and collapsed upon itself. And Emma used all this information to her advantage.

Emma sunk deeper into Regina's cunt at the sensation of nails scraping against her scalp. She hummed at the pleasure. She could fall asleep like this, but pried her eyes open instead. With her gaze set upon the olive skinned beauty, the escort could have came immediately. The tops of her breasts were flushed pink, her nipples pert, and her chest heaved in a delicious rhythm. Regina's head was tossed back, her neck stretched and glistening with sweat. There was nothing more that Emma wanted than to run her tongue all the way up the column of her neck, collecting every dewy droplet before stealing a kiss from the older woman.

The hand in Emma's hair tightened, smothering her between glistening folds. "Don't stop, Miss Swan," Regina commanded, needy and desperate.
The thought didn't even cross her mind.

Stiffening her tongue, the blonde quickened her ministrations. She was focused: intent on making Regina Mills come.

And she did.

With a thick groan followed by a soft exhale of breath, Regina's head fell back further, her mouth agape while both hands now forced Emma into her. Her chest stopped heaving momentarily and forced itself out as if all the air she possessed was being collected and held in one spot. Smooth ankles dig into the blonde's back painfully, but Emma enjoyed it. The pain mixed with the pleasure of watching Regina I'm an Asshole but also a Sweetheart but don't call me that out loud Mills orgasm coated the apex of her thighs with yet another layer of arousal. Greedy and desirous to watch a repeat, Emma began tonguing the woman once more, but was forced away.

Without a task to focus on, Emma started to feel an ache in her knees and palms from the coarse carpeting digging into her skin. The areas where Regina's ankles previously positioned themselves were marred with indents. A ravenous appetite grew in the blonde's stomach, desiring as many orgasms as Regina wanted and at least one of her own.

Slender fingers reattached themselves to golden tresses, dragging Emma up and forcing their lips together. She gladly surrendered to the kiss, allowing the older woman free range over her mouth. A wandering tongue traced every crevice of her mouth, demanding and claiming every inch. Emma's tongue was soon captured between plump lips, and Regina suckled as if she were milking every trace of her orgasm off of the pink appendage, causing the young escort to whimper and grind her hips, desperately seeking attention.

"Regina," the blonde mumbled, boldly moving her hands up toned thighs and gentle curves. She missed the feeling of Regina's skin; soft and supple, and generally unmarred asides from the scar above her lip and oddly placed freckles. Her muscles quivered at the gentle touches, and Emma couldn't help but smirk into the kiss. Regina's body betrayed her attitude; she missed Emma, and it brought nothing but joy to the young woman.

Their kiss was broken by the olive skinned beauty. She stood, towering over Emma, and held her gaze. Fire sat underneath coffee stained orbs, challenging her lover.

"On the bed," she drawled, tone laced with desire and authority. "And make sure that pretty cunt is drenched by the time I return."

Not trying to disappoint or anger her "client", Emma climbed onto the bed. She sunk into the silky duvet, letting the cool fabric caress her overheating skin. Shifting into a comfortable position, the younger woman laid on her stomach with her left knee drawn up, her hips barely elevated enough to allow her hand to slip between thighs. Her fingers swirled in damp folds as if she were instructing a symphony. Every nerve ending was abuzz with energy, relishing in the now broken, two week fast. Both labia were saturated with moisture, arousal freely flowing at the breaking of the dam.

The escort hummed in unexpected delight. Her body was thankful for the attention, reveling in it. Fingers danced in quicker patterns, opting in favor of tight circles over languid caresses. A moan rumbled in Emma's throat, thick with desire. Her body begged for orgasm, every fiber in her demanding it, and she almost conceded to them. Forcing her fingers to slow despite her own will to continue, the blonde shoved her face into the duvet with a loud groan.

"Poor dear," a husky voice mused, and Emma snapped her head up to glance at the dark-haired woman, gloriously bare and carrying a black, velvet bag. Thick hips sauntered towards the bed agonizingly slowly. "That little cunt of yours wants to cum, doesn't it?"

Everything about Regina was patronizing, but Emma couldn't stop herself from staring unabashedly at the nude woman and drooling in response, completely ignoring the question at hand. She had seen Regina naked more times than she could count, and it wasn't as if the woman were clothed before she walked away. But, every time the blonde saw her, she couldn't help but yearn to ravish her. Olive skin and ample breasts begged for the blonde's mouth to lavish attention upon every inch. Dusky nipples cried for the escort's tongue and teeth. Hunger for the embodiment of sex appeal outweighed the screams for pleasure that her body demanded. Her drug of choice was available once again, and she planned on greedily feasting upon Regina.
Emma sat up on her knees, eyeing the woman and her smoldering eyes and sashaying hips. She saw Regina's lips moving once again, but obliviously ignored her, maintaining strict focus on sinful skin.

With all the skill of a temptress, the older woman crawled onto the bed. She pushed a pliable Emma back down with one hand and swept her bent legs out with the other. Gladly on her back, the escort reached forward, welcoming the warm, tanned skin coming in contact with her own. Regina's full weight pressed down on her. Pebbled nipples strained against hers deliciously, and Emma moaned her appreciation. She wrapped her arms around the woman and surged upward, capturing plump lips before she could offer any kind of rebuttal.

Both hummed in satisfaction, savoring each other. The kiss was all lips; soft, warm, and so very gentle, as if any more pressure would cause the other to break. Their only focus was on tasting and appreciating. Strong hands grasped at Emma's hips, clawing, clinging, and claiming. Emma returned the favor, finding purchase in thick hair, and bringing Regina impossibly closer. The politician's tongue caressed her bottom lip, and after a shiver, Emma parted her lips at the request of access. When their tongues danced together, the kiss changed. What once was sweet was now rushed. Hurried, harsh, and hot.

Bruised lips parted with breathless gasps. Soft noses grazed each other while emerald and mocha eyes bore into themselves. Every apology was communicated in their silence, but the soft moment was quickly replaced with passion. Dark eyes glittered mischievously, and Emma had no other option than to wait and watch as Regina slithered down her body. The younger woman shook when teeth grazed over her stomach before biting down on sensitive flesh. Her legs wrapped themselves around Regina, pulling her closer to her stomach. Her lover's lips soothed the marred skin, and her hips rolled. Her breath sat in her throat, hands now tangled in the covers. She glanced down at the politician and ran her tongue over dry lips before she spoke. "Regina," the escort panted, trying to control herself despite the lips that continued to torture her.

"Hush, my slut," the older woman purred, lips now dancing against her pubis.

Emma wanted to protest—was ready to—but before another word could come from her mouth, a serpent tongue flicked her clit. Hips elevated, but were pushed down by manicured nails. The same tongue began poking and prodding over every inch of skin and around every labia, avoiding her clit.

Tears threatened to well in blue eyes, and desperation clouded her mind. She needed an orgasm more than Regina knew, but also knew the woman didn't care. This was about her, her needs, and how Emma had left her. The blonde decided to simply shut her eyes and play the game her lover wanted to play.

When the politician was satisfied with the torture Emma had endured, she pressed a sloppy kiss to her clit. Emma gasped, grateful, needy, and ravenous. Plump lips wrapped around the sensitive bundle, sucking lightly.

Pale thighs tightened around her head. The escort rocked in tandem with Regina, seeing white behind her eyelids. Her stomach coiled deliciously—tightening and pulsing—as her orgasm neared.

She knew the rules, though; permission was needed before she came.

She lifted her head up and looked down, locking eyes with intense, chestnut orbs. A vague smirk lined the brunette's lips, and it was almost laughable.

"R'gina," Emma panted, her voice an octave lower. "Can I come? Please please please!"

The woman hummed, her head giving the slightest nod, and Emma was over the moon.

Her head fell back in pleasure while the cooling in her stomach reached its peek. Her body snapped like a rubber band, her orgasm almost ripping her in two. Toes curled into the covers and strong thighs threatened to crush the head between them. Both hands were thrown above her head, muscles straining as her body reacted.

As Emma came down from her high, she exhaled four words, covering her eyes with her forearm. The lips that assaulted the escort's clit were pulled away instantly. Regina's lithe body crawled on top of her. She could feel the woman's breath on her lips, but cared little as her body temperature went back to normal.

"What did you just say."

"What?" The blonde asked, responding to the question with another question.

The arm was removed and dark eyes met hers.

"What did you say, Emma?"

What did she say?

As the fog lifted from her brain, blue eyes widened. A pink tongue darted out to soften dry lips.

"God," the younger woman repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love you."

There was a breath of silence.

Emma feared the worst. Curse her brain. Why had she said that—she wasn't emotionally ready to say that her, especially if Regina didn't feel the same. If that were the case, this would be over—the woman would surely end it now, at least until lips crashed against her own.

Fears were erased as both sets of lips moved in tandem—soft and sacred. Emma could vaguely taste herself, but that wasn't of any concern at the moment. What was, was that Regina hadn't rejected her. She reciprocated, to an extent anyways, and that was enough. When they broke away, the blonde was sure to speak first.

"I'm so sorry. I quit today. I took that client because André was guilt-tripping me, but we should have talked about what we were before I did. And I shouldn't have yelled at you, and you shouldn't have let me leave, and we shouldn't done a lot of shit—"

"Shut up, you idiot," the politician chuckled, giving a chaste kiss. "It's okay—we're okay. Okay?"

"Yeah."

They kissed once more, firmer this time.

"Why don't you show me how sorry you are one more time," Regina suggested, moving until her thighs straddled the blonde's face.