Creeping Desire After the Cremation

Yvonne, thirty-five, lay on her back in the wide bed while morning sun pushed through the thin curtains and striped the sheets in warm gold. The house still smelled faintly of lilies. Marco, her husband, thirty-eight, was already downstairs; she heard the kettle and the low murmur of his voice. She should have been in the shower. Instead she stared at the ceiling and let the question turn, shameless and stupid and hot.

They had cremated her stepuncle the day before. The chapel had been close and bright, wood warm under the lights, and she had stood in black with Marco's hand at the small of her back. Across the aisle, Kendra had looked at her. Not the polite look of sympathy. A look that stayed. Kendra was thirty-two, married to Silas, thirty-six, Marco's stepbrother, and that fact had always been the wall between them. Sister-in-law. The word had never felt dangerous until the service, when Kendra's mouth parted and Yvonne felt her own pulse answer low in her body, indecent beside a casket.

Was it appropriate to want to sleep with your sister-in-law on the morning after you cremated your stepuncle? The question was obscene. It was also the only clear thought she had. They had never crossed that line. Holiday glances, a hand that lingered on a wineglass, a joke that ran half a second too intimate—wanting that had started years into their marriages, both of them long grown, nothing ever acted on. Today the wanting had teeth.

She shifted under the sheet. Her panties were already damp, and that shamed her more than the thought. Shame and hunger sat in the same hot place under her ribs. Her wedding ring caught the sun, and she did not take it off. Downstairs, Marco said something to Silas about the paperwork at the funeral home. Keys. A door. The curtains moved in a small draft, and the light slid over her mouth. She realized she was listening for a lighter step, wanting it, unable to stop. The sun kept pouring in, and Yvonne pressed her thighs together and did not get up.

Footsteps on the stairs were lighter than Marco's. A knock, soft, and then Kendra slipped in on the pretext of comfort, still in yesterday's black skirt and a soft gray blouse, hair pinned up and already coming loose. She closed the door with care.

"They're gone," she said. "Papers. An hour, maybe more. I told them I'd sit with you." Her voice was careful. Her eyes were not. They moved over the sheet, the bare shoulder, the sunlight on Yvonne's throat. "You look like you didn't sleep."

"I didn't." Yvonne sat up. The sheet fell to her waist. She wore only a thin camisole and panties, and she did not pull the sheet back. "I kept thinking about the chapel. About you looking at me like that."

Kendra's breath caught, small and audible in the quiet room. She came closer, stopping at the edge of the bed, one hand on the post. "I shouldn't have. It was his day. Your stepuncle. I stood there in black and all I could feel was heat." She stopped, color rising in her face. "God. Say it isn't just me."

"It isn't." Yvonne's heart was loud. She reached, and their fingers brushed, then held. Kendra's hand was warm. "I've wanted you for years. Since that vacation, the red dress, my eyes on you. I never said it. I thought it would pass."

"It didn't pass for me either." Kendra sat on the bed. Their knees touched. The sun laid itself across both of them, bright enough to show the fine shake in Kendra's wrist. "Last night I lay awake beside him and I was wet just from remembering your mouth. The cremation left me strangely aroused. All that ending, and I wanted to be alive against you. Is that awful?"

"It's awful," Yvonne said, and her voice had gone low. "And I feel the same. Strange and lit up and done pretending." She drew Kendra's hand to her ribs, under the camisole, skin to skin. Breath quickened between them. "I'm sober. I'm awake. I know what I'm doing."

Yvonne pulled Kendra down onto the sheets, the mattress dipping, sunlight flooding over both of them. "Say it with me," Yvonne said against her mouth. "I freely choose this. I want to fuck you right now, consequences be damned."

"I freely choose it too," Kendra said, clear and steady, not a trace of drink or doubt in her. "Nobody pushed me. I'm awake. I want your mouth, and I want to come with you. If you want me, I'm yours."

"I want you," Yvonne said. "Right now."

Their breaths came short. Hands brushed a hip, a waist, a bare thigh, and neither of them pulled away.

The kiss broke open at once, hungry, no more testing. Kendra's tongue slid against Yvonne's, a desperate sound caught between them. Yvonne found the buttons of the gray blouse and worked them open, shoving the fabric off Kendra's shoulders. A black bra, then bare breasts in her hands, nipples tightening under her thumbs. Kendra gasped and yanked the camisole up and off, baring Yvonne to the sun.

"Off," Yvonne said, rough. "All of it. I need you naked."

They fumbled, frantic, a zipper sticking, then giving. Skirt, panties, the last of the black, tossed toward the chair. Kendra knelt over her, thirty-two and flushed, breasts swaying, a dark triangle of hair already glistening. The sun caught the wet shine on her inner thighs. Yvonne stared, mouth open, and Kendra swung a leg over and straddled her face.

"Eat me," Kendra said, voice wrecked and sure. "I want your tongue. I'm asking. Do it."

Yvonne gripped her hips and pulled her down. The first taste was salt and heat, soft folds parting on her tongue, slick coating her lips, the weight of Kendra settling onto her mouth. She licked a long stripe and Kendra cried out, one hand on the headboard. Yvonne sealed her lips over that swollen clit and sucked, tongue flicking, nose buried in warm skin. Kendra ground down in a slow filthy circle, painting Yvonne's mouth and chin.

"Yes. Like that. Don't you dare stop." Kendra's free hand found Yvonne's cunt and pushed two fingers in, curling, fucking her in hard steady strokes while she rode her face. "You're so wet for me. Listen to it. Take my fingers. Take my pussy. Lick me open."

Yvonne moaned into her, and the vibration made Kendra shudder. She licked harder, tongue flat, then pointed, learning the rhythm from the shake in Kendra's thighs. Those fingers drove deeper, thumb rubbing Yvonne's clit in messy circles, the wet sound of it filling the sunlit room. Yvonne's hips bucked to meet every thrust. She sucked and held Kendra there, devouring her, while Kendra fingered her like she meant to ruin her.

"Not yet," Kendra gasped, pulling her fingers free as Yvonne started to clench. "Switch. Ride my mouth. I need to taste you before I come."

They moved in a tangle of heat. Yvonne straddled Kendra's face, knees in the sheets, facing the window where sun poured over her breasts and belly. Kendra's hands clamped on her ass and dragged her down. The first lick was broad and greedy. Yvonne's head fell back. She rocked, grinding her soaked pussy against that tongue, feeling nose and chin and an eager open mouth working her. Kendra licked into her, then sucked her clit with a hunger that made her thighs shake.

"Fuck, your mouth," Yvonne said, palms braced on the mattress. "Right there. Don't gentle it. I want it filthy. I chose this. Make me drip on your tongue."

Kendra answered by sucking harder, two fingers sliding back in, fucking her while she licked. Yvonne rode that mouth in earnest, hips rolling, wet sounds loud and shameless. Sunlight heated her shoulders. She looked down into Kendra's open, certain eyes and nearly came from the sight alone. She lifted off, shaking, not ready to finish without her.

"Together," Yvonne said. "Lock with me."

She stretched out and pulled Kendra in, one thigh over Kendra's hip, their cunts meeting in a slick, shocking press. Both of them groaned. Yvonne reached between them, spread herself, and rocked until her clit dragged against Kendra's, wet on wet, heat on heat. They found a rhythm fast—short grinding thrusts, sweat starting at their temples and between their breasts. The sheets twisted. Skin slapped softly. Every grind sent a bright jolt up Yvonne's spine.

"Harder," Kendra panted, hauling Yvonne's thigh in. "Grind on me. I can feel how swollen you are. You're dripping. Use me. Make me come. I'm right there."

"I've got you." Yvonne braced a foot and drove tighter circles, clit kissing clit, slippery and relentless. She watched Kendra's face break open, mouth slack, eyes half-shut, breasts bouncing with each grind. "So pretty when you're desperate. Come with me. I'm not stopping. Come on my cunt."

Kendra pinched a nipple, and the sharp pleasure tipped Yvonne over. Her rhythm stuttered, then surged. Heat coiled and snapped. She came hard, a full-body shudder, crying out into the bright room, her pussy pulsing against Kendra's in wet helpless spasms. Kendra followed a breath later, hips jerking, a broken moan torn out of her as she ground through it, chasing every aftershock. Their slick mixed. Both of them shook, gasping yes, more, don't stop, fuck, until the climax rolled through them together and left them trembling in the sunlight, naked and wrecked and shining with sweat.

They stayed tangled a moment longer, small rocks, oversensitive, until the pleasure ebbed to warmth. Yvonne eased her thigh free and collapsed beside Kendra.

Kendra turned and kissed her, slow, tasting both of them. "That was exactly what I needed," she murmured. "Exactly what I wanted. I chose it. I'd choose it again."

"Same," Yvonne said. "Freely. Awake. Glad. No regrets." They kissed again, soft and lingering.

They dressed slowly. Panties, the gray blouse, the black skirt. Yvonne pulled on a robe and smoothed Kendra's hips with both hands. At the door they stopped for one last kiss, deep enough to restart the ache.

"Thursday," Yvonne said, already scheming. "Marco's on a site until six. I'll say I'm running errands. You tell Silas you're helping me with the flowers. Two o'clock. Same bed. I want you on your back before the kettle boils. Think about it all week. I already am."

Kendra's smile was wicked and bright. "Two. I'll be wet on the stairs." She kissed Yvonne once more and slipped into the hall, back toward the married quiet, carrying the heat they had both freely chosen on the morning after the cremation. Yvonne watched her go, already planning the lock.