It had been the first time, but it would never be the last. She would move heaven and earth to be with her lover now. Oh, how hungry they had been then. Two young women, wed to older men who seemed to know or care nothing for how a woman was meant to bloom open in delicious pleasure.

How hungry they still were.

Elizabeth’s hands knew her body well, after long years of delightful exploration.

There was no hesitation, no fear, no holding back. They were eager still, greedy, but each knew just how to please the other, and they did, as often as they could, as many ways as they could find. Catherine moaned and spread her legs, rubbing herself as Elizabeth dipped her tongue into her navel, teasing her way downward. She was wet and ready and wanting.

“Yes.” Catherine felt her lover’s fingers probing inside, her tongue exploring the soft, wet folds. There was nothing quite like this-Elizabeth’s full breasts pressed against her thighs, her tongue tracing soft, rounded patterns again and again over the tender bud of flesh between her parted lips, her lover’s hand cupping her breast and pulling at her nipple, making her writhe and moan. Nothing could compare to the soft, gentle, tender lapping lusciousness of the two of them together.

“Oh!” The Lady Montague’s thighs spread wide, trembling and quivering with her impending orgasm, and the Lady Capulet knew it. Elizabeth’s mouth worked faster, her tongue a relentless urging, her fingers a rhythmic encouragement. There was no stopping it, and they both wanted just this. Catherine’s hands curled against the coverlet, her cries filling the room as she came, flooding her lover’s mouth with her juices. Elizabeth moaned, too, eager to taste more, and lapped at her quivering flesh.

They collapsed together, their cheeks flushed, and Catherine kissed Elizabeth’s mouth, licking at her chin, tasting herself, her body still riding the wave of her climax, a dreamy, slow-moving rush.