The Dom With the Perfect Brats (38 page)

Izzy

As the sounds of Cross descending the metal ladder receded, Izzy surveyed the rooftop. “It’s a very thoughtful surprise. And it could look so much better with a bit more work. Some greenery in pots. Flowers. Trellises with vines and other green things.” She waved vaguely. Gardening wasn’t her scene, or hadn’t been until now.

“Yup.” Gemma wandered to the chest-high concrete wall that marked the boundaries of the roof.

They’d spent the past twenty minutes carrying and pushing things up the narrow ladder and through the trapdoor – three rolled-up foam mattresses, sleeping bags, which they’d unzipped to use for covers, the garden sconces, and pillows, and now he’d gone off to get “supplies.”

The big slanted roof above had been built some time ago, but Cross had been busy recently. The flat roof they stood on had been swept clean and the unblemished metal
bed frame the mattresses lay on must have come up in pieces. Tools and lumber were piled to one side, and before the sun had sunk low enough to deeply shadow the roof, she’d noticed felt-pen markings on the supports and a few on the concrete floor, like he planned to add wiring or something? She didn’t know enough about building. “What’s he aiming to do up here?”

Leaning on her forearms, Gemma peered over edge and down at the street. Her voice was muffled. “I don’t know.
We’ll ask him when he gets back.” She went on tiptoe. The cool breeze coming off the ocean fluttered her hair. “Hey, he’s walked to the liquor store. We have maybe ten minutes. And I have a plan. Follow me.” She jogged to the picnic hamper she’d brought up earlier, flipped it open, and rummaged inside.

“What?”

“These!” In each hand, Gemma flourished what looked like a pair of black lace panties. “Come on. Strip. I want to surprise Cross.”

“With underwear? We’re on the roof! I can’t strip up here. It’s cold and
...” She rubbed her arms and pretend-shivered, but wilted under the stare Gemma poured over her. “Well, it is. I’m not an Antarctic penguin like you.”

Gemma clucked her tongue and put her hands on her hips. “I can tell when you’re being chicken. No one can see. There’re no buildings overlooking this one.” She swept a hand in a half circle.

She didn’t bother looking. “I know that.” Then she shrugged, let her shoulders flop down, and put on full pout for sympathy.

“I thought Aussies were tough? Strip! I’ll go first.” Without hesitation, Gemma tossed a pair of panties at Izzy, whipped down her skirt, and then her white panties. Cross had made them both wear short skirts and tiny midriff shirts up here on the roof.

“You’re mad. If we get arrested...” She screwed up her nose for all of half a second then smiled at the sight of Gemma’s pale backside. “You need a tan. You’re whiter than white. I could use you as a kind of lighthouse beacon to warn ships off the rocks.”

“Fuck you,” muttered Gemma.

“No thanks. Well, not unless you have a strap-on.”

“Don’t tempt me!”

Truth be told, she’d always considered them a weird device, until the day before, when Cross had sat with them watching a porn video with two girls using one. After that, and his rather pointed suggestions, she’d wondered what it would be like – receiving or doing it.

Gemma had pulled on the black panties and arranged something at the back. She turned. “
What do you think?”

“Oh. My. God. I’ve seen these on the net.” The back of the panties were an array of black ribbons that came in from the side and curved up
, following the contours of Gemma’s ass to meet and tie in a bow high above the gorgeous mounds of her buttocks. The crevice between made her fingers itch. “I am
so
touching this.”

“
Does it make my ass look good?” She gave her ass a little shake and grinned.

“
Yes! Stay there.” She put a palm on each side and cupped the flesh, closing her eyes a little in appreciation. “Mmm. Cross will like these.”

“And you don’t? Put yours on!” But for a moment she went quiet as if appreciating the feel of Izzy’s hands before she added quietly, “Hey. Stop that. We have limited time and I want us to lie down on the bed so he sees us when he comes back.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m doing it.”

So she took off her skirt and pulled on the panties, turning her head to check the fit. “My bum’s bigger. Will the ribbons stay up?”

“I hope so.”

S
he skipped over to Cross’s pile of tools and found the felt pen. “Idea. Turn around and display that lily-white ass. I think Cross needs some directions. And I...” She held up the whiteboard marker and grinned. “Have some to scribble on you.”

Even in the meager light of the sconces and the fading sunlight, she could see Gemma’s eyes light up. “
Good idea! Though maybe higher up. The ribbon covers too much.
No
looking at what I write though.”

“What? On me?” she squeaked. That wasn’t in her plan, but it added a certain element of daring. First things first. She smiled in a most evil fashion then slowly rotated the pen between her fingers. “
Turn around.”

Gemma
shook her head and held out her hand palm up. “Me first.”

“No way!”

“Yes. Or you don’t get to lay a finger on my ass.” The cocky tilt of her head, and the cheeky way she stuck her tongue out made Izzy yearn to do something a lot more evil than write. But...

“Okaayy. I suppose that’s alright.” She handed over the pen.

“Now go lie down on the bed, ass-up, and be a good little girl.”

She snorted and gave Gemma the finger then she went and lay on the blanket-covered mattresses. Waiting like this, similar to how Cross made her do it, when
he had one of his Dommy plans, was such a delicious position. Especially when she was imagining what Gemma could do if she chose to.

On cue, her girl coasted her cool fingers over her skin just above the top ribbon of the panties, and Izzy looked back.

Gemma wore an intent look as she pulled the top off the pen then bent down.

“Don’t move. I don’t want to smudge this.”

As if she would. She’d moistened between her legs. Sex was never far from her brain, alas. She swallowed. Her next words were coarse, dragged from her throat, past the thickening sensation of arousal. “Did Cross say if we couldn’t do things...to each other?”

Such a devious look came over Gemma
, but she kept on writing studiously. The ink on her flesh was cold. “No. Why?” But even as she said it in a distant tone, with her other hand she skimmed along the line of demarcation between the crotch of Izzy’s panties and her skin.

Her awareness of that sent Izzy into a spin, nothing registered, nothing mattered, except Gemma edging her finger under the panties, and touching her l
ower lips, playing in the moisture. Up. Down. Sliding.

And still she wrote, as if someone else did that.

Izzy groaned.

“
What’s wrong?” she asked innocently.

“Tease.” Though up on her elbows, so she could see, Izzy’s muscles gave a little. She slumped. Her eyelids cruised lower. “Keep going,” she whispered, wiggling to entice
Gemma’s fingers.

“Keep going?” Those fingers under Izzy’s panties continued the languid up and down motion – each time parting her lips a little more, going a little deeper.

She spread her legs and slumped farther onto the bed until she was face-first in the bedding, breathing past the blankets. “More of that. Please.” But she couldn’t resist adding, “Madam Bitch-tease.”

“Ooo
h. Now that’s not nice!” The bed bounced as she stood, then again when she slapped Izzy’s ass. “Done, little miss kinky freak.” She stepped away.

Izzy turned over and sat up, hoping the ink didn’t get on the cover. She grinned. “What did you write?” And when was she going to touch her again? Because she was on fire.

The pen rolled across the cover into her thigh.

“Not telling. Wait and see what Cross says.
Oh crap.” She raised her head. “I think he’s coming.”

Was he? She hadn’t heard. “Lie down so I can write on you.”

“No. There’s no time. We’ll have to do it another time.” For a moment Gemma was stony-faced but then her eyebrow angled upward the smallest amount and her lips twitched.

Liar.

“Damn. Guess so. How do we do this? Lie down on our stomachs so he can see the panties? Like this?” Izzy turned back over, but slid so her knees were on the ground. The pen she left as it was, casually forgotten, but within reach. What
had
Gemma written?

Footsteps said she’d closed in on the bed. Then it gave as she too lay down.

“If you want. Or maybe just flat, like this.” She looked over at Izzy, perusing her, and that dreamy look of arousal arrived. “Will you kiss me first?” She squirmed nearer.

“Of course.
” But as they closed in, lips nearing, Izzy bolted upright and straddled Gemma, positioned like a cowgirl on a bronco. Taking a leaf from Cross’s handbook, she captured one of Gemma’s wrists, and pinned it in the small of her back.

Gemma exploded into motion, wriggling, swearing, and trying to turn but with her arm trapped it was difficult. “
Bitch!”

Answering was impossible when she was giggling so much. And having Gemma’s warm and soft body squirming under her, between her legs, and surging up and down – it was enough to get her panting, in more ways than one. They were both laughing as much as cussing and shrieking.
Stop
,
no
,
sit still
, and
bitch
, got shouted a few times. They rolled over, but with some all-in fighting and wrestling, she got back on and in position on her bucking girlfriend.

At last, still half-laughing, half-choking, she succeeded in grappling her down by lying on her with Gemma’s arm stuck between them.

“The only reason you won,” Gemma gasped out, mouth in the blanket. Then she shifted her head to cough and had to catch her breath. “Was because you cheated and tickled me!”

“Never
!” But she had to grin. Izzy leaned into Gemma and nuzzled her neck, nibbled at the nape where the hair was fine and curled. She snuggled in. “Mmm. I can smell your lavender shampoo.”

A moment of stillness said Gemma was appreciating this too.

She groped for and found the pen, and used her teeth to pull off the cap. The acrid alcoholic stench made her wrinkle her nose, but she poised the tip near Gemma’s cheek and saw her girlfriend focus on the pen. “Now, say...what the hell
do
you say here when you give up? Peace? Truce? Mercy? Say it or I draw on your face.”

“Umm.” Gemma said softly, as if she pretended to think. “Fuck you?”

“God, you are a brat!” For a few seconds, Izzy lay atop Gemma, laughing so hard, tears streamed down her cheeks. She regained her breath. “Try again. I write on you down there, or up here. Which is it?”

Gemma sighed. “Oh, go on. Do it. Down there.”

“Move an inch,” she threatened. “And I guarantee I’ll make you into a scribble pad.”

“Yeah, yeah.
Stop being so dramatic.”

Smiling, Izzy levered herself up and knee-walked down the bed, still straddling Gemma. The panties had
gone askew so she gently straightened the ribbons, and kissed her on the small of her back, once. “You’re so pretty. Love this ass.” She trailed her fingertip down the inviting split of her bottom, bumping over ribbons. She kissed where her finger rested. “I love
you
.”

“Mm. Then don’t write on me.”

But Izzy ignored the plea and carefully inked on what she wanted to, and underlined it.

Then she flopped down on the bed next to her. For a while they just looked at each other until Izzy reached out tentatively and toyed with a lock of hair that had strayed over Gemma’s eyebrow. “I do, you know,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Love you.” Then she wriggled closer and brushed Gemma’s lips with hers. “You’re so soft.”

“I know. I mean...I know you love me. I do too.”

Izzy giggled. “Umm. You love you?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, silly.” She nipped at Izzy’s lip, licked, and let it go, then she took Izzy’s fingers in hers, smoothing her thumb across the back of Izzy’s fingers. “I love you. I miss you when we’re apart. I daydream about you almost constantly.”

Izzy arched a skeptical brow.

Gemma chuckled. “No, really. It’s a problem at work. I don’t know how many clients I’ve called Izzy by accident.” She sighed and nibbled her lip. “I didn’t think I could ever feel this way about a girl.”

They were almost nose to nose, staring into each other’s eyes. “
What way?” she murmured, though she knew the answer. She ached to hear Gemma say it again. “Love?”

“Yes.”

“Me either,” she admitted. “I mean... I knew I wanted it but I figured I’d always be too scared to find it. Or if I did, something awful would ruin it. You know?”