A Matter of Trust: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance
“Keep in mind that she’s older and is maybe a little more reluctant to add the ‘love’ label after only…How long have you been dating?”
“It will be six weeks on Saturday,” Chloë answered.
Vanessa raised her eyebrows.
“Wow!”
“What? Why wow?”
“Nothing. I’m just thinking about the fact that Morgan has never dated women before and now she’s been with one for six weeks. She’s either discovered something pretty fucking profound about herself or you’re doing things to her that have hypnotized her.”
Chloë giggled.
“Anyway, sweetie,” Vanessa said, “just keep in mind that Morgan might need another six weeks or even six months before she feels the same as you do. Understand?”
“Yeah, I totally get your point. You truly are wise.”
Just then, the back door of La Vida Mocha opened and Amber appeared, panic written all over her face.
“Uh, guys…we need help in here!” she said, her voice an octave higher than normal. “A bunch of old ladies in red hats just came in! Like, a lot of them!”
“Shit!” Vanessa exclaimed, fishing her face mask out of her pocket and putting it on as she and Chloë headed back inside. “The Red Hat Society. I forgot all about them during the pandemic and now they must have all gotten vaccinated and are feeling brave enough to come out of hiding. I’ll stay on and help you guys out.”
***
That night, things did not go exactly as Chloë imagined them.
“Oh my God!” Chloë called out shrilly as she came for the second time, her clit wrapped in Morgan’s lips as the brunette continued sucking it. And although the first climax had been spectacular, this one couldn’t be described with mere words. “Fuck! Oh fuck! Morgaaaaan! Fuuuck!” She arched her back, her hands gripping the sheets, the waves of intense pleasure pulsing through her. “Fuck! Morgan, I love you!”
Oh shit!
If she hadn’t been in the throes of an orgasm that was currently rendering her incapable of all motor control, Chloë would have pulled the covers up over her head and hidden under them until Christmas. As it was, this climax was so intense that even had her tiny house been on fire, Chloë would have had to wait until her pussy once more relinquished control of the rest of her body in order for her to make her escape.
Meanwhile, Morgan expertly eased Chloë through it all, her tongue now in Chloë’s opening as her arms held Chloë’s hips steady and in place.
When it was done, Chloë released the sheets and brought her hands up to cover her face. She felt Morgan come up from between her legs to lay beside her.
“Chloë, look at me,” Morgan said softly.
“I don’t want to,” Chloë whined from behind her hands.
“Please?” Morgan prodded.
Chloë finally took her hands away from her face and turned her head to look at her girlfriend.
Morgan smiled.
“Would you have said what you just said outside of bed?” she asked.
Chloë nodded, holding Morgan’s gaze. Moment of truth.
“I’ve wanted to say it for a while now,” she whispered. “Because I do love you.”
In the span of a half second, Chloë wondered what would happen next. Would Morgan laugh, calling her a silly young girl? Would Morgan say, “I need another six weeks”? Would Morgan tell her she was now done with this experiment, it was back to men for her?
All of those scenarios passed through Chloë’s mind in the span of that half second.
But at the end of that half second, what happened was Morgan kissed Chloë, long and deeply, and when she pulled away, she said, “Chloë Marchand, I love you too.”