|Mirabella's Mardi Gras Ménage
In February, I took part in Love Spanks, a hop featuring new material. I'm re-posting the following free read, which features two characters from the erotic paranormal series. We delve into Mirabella and Marguerite’s story in the F/F/M novella Mirabella’s Mardi Gras Ménage. Some readers commented on the lack of a F/F-only scene. While it existed within my head, the limited word count kept it from being included in the final book. So here, as my very first FREE read, is a special, new scene.
Mirabella’s First Course
By Louisa Bacio
As the night wound down, the camaraderie between the two women overflowed like fresh poured champagne. Laughter and the spicy scent of the Cajun restaurant next store drifted in from Bourbon Street. The late-night shift came on, and Mirabella wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to the striking redhead sitting across from her.
“What are you doing after this?” Marguerite asked. She trailed her index finger along the U-shaped curve of Mirabella’s hand, sending shivers of sensation throughout her body. “Because I’d like to invite you back to my place to continue our discussion.”
“I’d like that. Let me clean up my station and get my things.” For someone who hadn’t dated – men or women – at all, she sure accepted her offer fast. Maybe it was Mirabella’s own resolution to embrace her life, or more so how comfortable Marguerite made her feel.
She said a silent closed-eye thank you to the tarot cards and guiding spirits before she tucked them into the side pocket of her bag. She took a deep breath and blew out the candles, sending a wave of fragrant smoke trailing upward.
Outside, they fell in a natural rhythm, step by step. For being so much taller than Mirabella, Marguerite didn’t outpace her, or walk too quickly. She strolled with a grace resembling the most compact ballet dancer. Next to her, Mira felt klutzy. From the corner of her eye, she drank in her long legs and shapely ass. As they passed the main drag of bars, the street grew crowded, and Marguerite’s hip bumped hers, and their hands brushed. Electricity jumped between their fingers, causing Mirabella to instinctively jerk back. “Sorry,” she said.
“Hard not to get physical on a night like this right before Mardi Gras,” Marguerite said. She reached over and grasped Mira’s hand. “Follow me, single file.”
They wove through throngs of people, so close together Mira could smell Marguerite’s perfume over every other competing scent. She barely reached up to her shoulder. As the air cleared, and although they had more room, they continued to hold hands as if it was the most natural thing.
“Wow, pretty crazy out there,” Mirabella said.
“It’s only going to get worse,” Marguerite added. “But we’re almost home.”
She entered a code into a gate, and pushed open the door. Inside lay a courtyard oasis, complete with a flowing water fountain and koi ponds. Everything gleamed white and green. Living in the French Quarter her entire life, Mirabella was used to seeing courtyards, but for some reason she didn’t expect Marguerite to live in such a swanky place. They climbed up the stairs, and seeing the apartment only solidified Mira’s resolution to get out of Tante Teresa’s place. Living behind the Voodoo shop had grown old.
“Have a seat,” Mirabella called over her shoulder, as she walked down the hallway toward the back of the house. “I’m going to get more comfortable.”
The living room held one of those sectional leather couches shaped in a half square. She set her purse on the coffee table and plunked herself down in the corner. The strap of her tank top slid off her shoulder, and Mirabella debated upon striking a sexy pose. Could she pull it off or would she look foolish? She worried her lower lip between her teeth and second-guessed coming home with Marguerite. With the chemistry flowing between the two of them for the past two hours, the other woman was probably expecting something more than friendship, and she was frightened of disappointing her. Or more, her being disappointed in Mirabella.
Before she could make the decision to stay or go, Marguerite returned. Her legs looked even longer in the short jersey shorts, and her breasts strained against the tight shirt. Good lord, the woman turned heads wherever she went. Mira originally met Marguerite when she came to the shop seeking advice about Nick. The Creole man was so striking before he turned into a vampire. But afterward? Inhuman. Literally. If that were how her tastes ran, it was impossible for Marguerite to be interested in her. What did she have to offer?
“You look like you’re going to hurl or flee. Are you all right?” Marguerite settled beside her, crossing her legs Indian-style. “What are you so wound up about?”
“I’m not quite sure what I’m doing here,” she started, “Maybe I’m thinking about it too much.”
“May I?” Marguerite hovered her hand above Mira’s leg.
The warmth soaked through the thin material of Mirabella’s skirt on contact, and then Marguerite stroked upward. “I think we both know why I asked you back, and you wanted to come, and maybe your shouldn’t pick the reasons apart. Go with what you feel.”
“But-” Mira started.
The other woman leaned in. The last glimpse Mirabella had before she shut her eyes was plump red lips, and then she was kissing her. Light and tentative, and oh so soft. Her hand continued to rub Mira’s inner thigh, and her tongue stroked her lower lip. She opened her mouth, letting Marguerite within her mouth, and into her heart. Warmth spread between Mirabella’s legs as her nervousness fled and excitement flared.
“You’re trembling beneath my palm,” Marguerite said.
“I guess I’m a little nervous.” Mirabella laughed lightly.
The low lighting in the room accented the young woman’s golden skin tone. Upon first sight, Marguerite found her enticing. Up close, and with her cheeks flushed from want? Watch out. The minx glanced at her from behind half-closed eyes. Her chest lifted, and her delicate collarbones emerged. Marguerite wanted to run her tongue along the curve and suck until she left her mark. She licked her lips, almost able to taste the delicacy. Soft deliciousness.
While she loved being with men – the pure strength of Nick when he lifted her up, held her ass, and fucked her against the wall, what she adored about women was the total opposite. The rounded swell of breasts and hips. Tentative touches so soft she almost came on contact.
“Are you doing all right?”
This time, Mirabella initiated the kiss, reaching behind Marguerite to remove her hair band before running her fingers through it. She held Marguerite’s head, massaging her scalp, while exploring her mouth. Their dancing tongues swayed, and their breath intermingled.
Less tentative now, Mirabella crawled forward, her hand brushing against Marguerite’s breast, her fingertips flicking over her nipple. Marguerite inhaled sharply. Someone was curious.
She pulled Mirabella onto her lap, sliding up the long skirt until it bunched around her hips, and ran her fingers under it, between Mira’s legs, seeking her warmth.
Oooh, so wet through her cotton panties. So excited. She was sure it wouldn’t take much to make the other woman come. First, she was going to make her want it. Need it. Beg for it.
“Have you been with a woman before, Mira?” She liked the way the R in her name rolled off her tongue, like a gentle caress.
“No.” She stilled in Marguerite’s arms.
“Have you been with a man before?”
“Usually, that’s a yes or no answer. What does ‘not really’ mean?”
“Well, I’ve kissed a man before, and I wanted more. But nothing else happened. I haven’t had sex if that’s what you want to know.”
Was she defensive about her lack of experience? These days it was a precious commodity and definitely nothing to be embarrassed about.
“Shush. It’s all right. I’ll enjoy helping corrupt a bit of that innocence,” Marguerite said. “And who better to give some good loving than another woman who knows how your body works.”
She held up her hand. “See my nails? I keep them cropped short and rounded. Do you know why?”
The other woman’s eyes opened wide. “N-oo.”
“So when they’re inside you, all you’ll feel is pleasure.”
Long, dark lashes fluttered shut, and when she opened her eyes, the pupils displayed pinpoints of passion.
And with that invitation, Marguerite took her hand, and led her to the bedroom. They stood, body to body, facing each other, both aware of the next step. She peeled down Mirabella’s tank top, revealing the delicate skin underneath. The parts of her breasts that never saw the light of day were a few shades lighter than the rest of her body, and Marguerite immediately wondered what her bare ass looks like. Hmmm, there was something extra delicious about this encounter knowing she’d seen parts of Mira’s beauty others hadn’t.
In contrast, her nipples were dark, dark brown, like the richest chocolate against caramel skin. Marguerite licked her lips in anticipation. Maybe another time she’d bring some chocolate into the bed and check the matching coloring, and have a delectable taste play, too. Her own nipples were pale in comparison, like a white rose with a blush of pink infused.
She blew, watching the tip pucker up in anticipation, and sucked in the entire head in one mouthful. The mounds were on the small side, less than a cupful, but on Mira, just perfect. They accentuated her feminine petite side. Plus, with Marguerite having such an overabundant breast-line, it was nice to see someone so different.
They stretched out on the sheets, cooler on the early spring evening. Hope and longing swelled inside of Marguerite’s chest. She wanted this sweet woman with a fierce, but more quiet passion. A soft love.
With Nick, being physical consumed the relationship. Shit. What relationship? He screwed her when he wanted a piece of ass. Oh, don’t get her wrong. She wanted it just as bad. Beneath the surface, she saw the tenderness, and knew he cared for her. If he would only open his heart, and believe in his own worth, they might have something together.
She couldn’t love Mirabella. It was too soon. She’d barely met her, and yet her body ached to be touched by the other woman. Her soul desired to be soothed by the beauty. Mirabella lay against the blue pillows, her hair a kinky halo around her head, and her eyes wide with wonder.
Never would she have expected a man they shared in common to bring them together. She’d have to thank Nick later for his inadvertent help. Now, it was time to play.
Next to her side, Marguerite trailed her fingertips up the inside of Mirabella’s calf, her inner knee, her thighs, until reaching the sweet spot between her legs. Mira gave a small startled jump as Marguerite delved between her nether lips.
“Let me please you,” Marguerite said, sandwiched between Mirabella’s legs, sliding her hands under her thighs, and tilting up her hips. She licked Mira’s clit, alternating between quick and long, broad strokes.
Low moans escaped from Mirabella’s mouth, and Marguerite slid a finger into her wet depths, testing the tightness, and then two. Mirabella met her motions, thrust for thrust, completely in trust with the more experienced lover. She drank in her musty scent, and lavished her tongue.
As her climax overcame her, Mirabella squeezed in her thighs, and Marguerite drew out every bit of pleasure. After, she moved upward, taking Mirabella in her arms.
“That was unbelievable.” Her cheeks rosy in the afterglow, Mirabella toyed with the curve of Marguerite’s hip, running her fingers over the top, and back down over her ass. “How can I make you feel good?”
“I’ll show you. We’ve got plenty of time for that.”
The lights rimming the garden window flashed red, purple and green, casting a muted glow over the darkening room, and Marguerite schooled Mirabella in the fine art of loving.
* * * *
Constantly under the watchful eye of her Voodoo priestess aunt, Mirabella longs to break free during the events of Mardi Gras. Escapades draw her into the arms of Marguerite, a fiery redhead with a passion for life, and Nick, a familiar vampire who’s haunted by his transformation and past.
What starts as a new experience – a Mardi Gras Ménage – soon turns deadly, and none of their lives will ever be the same.