TITLE: House Arrest (22/35)
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Women’s Murder Club does not belong to me. The characters do not belong to me. They are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. I have no problems with that as long as I can borrow them for short bursts and use them in pursuit of my own enjoyment. I am not trying to infringe. Though, I don’t know why anyone has a problem with fan fic. After all, it really is a compliment. If anyone wants to write fan fiction about my book, feel free.

(12/28 – LINDSAY’S POV)

This is bad. This is bad. This is very, very bad. That’s what her mind was screaming. Her body, however, was doing its all to contradict that statement. If it was so bad, why didn’t it feel bad? At all. Why was her mind racing, her heart racing, and her blood racing to every one of her most sensitive parts?

Cindy pulled away, and the frustration that came with the loss of the touch was unreal. She opened her eyes, looked up at Cindy. Cindy’s hair was hanging down around her face, her breaths were coming in short pants, which Lindsay could barely distinguish from her own shallow breathing. Cindy’s eyes didn’t open, but her tongue did dart out to wet her lips, a habit with which Lindsay had become very familiar, but this time the action caused some very instantaneous, very impure, thoughts.

When Cindy did finally open her eyes, Lindsay felt her breath hitch in her chest. Cindy’s eyes were always so expressive. This time was no different. There were so many emotions swirling in them, but the two most prominent were fear and desire, a combination that Lindsay understood very well at the moment. She just hoped that desire was prevailing for Cindy, like it was for her. Otherwise, she could be making a huge mistake.

She thread her fingers up through red hair and pulled Cindy back down. Whatever supernatural power she’d been engaging to fight this feeling had promptly malfunctioned during the short time when Cindy’s lips were touching hers, and she really didn’t want to fight it. Not tonight.

Cindy whimpered as their lips came together again, and the sound was igniting. When Lindsay ran her tongue over Cindy’s bottom lip, Cindy instantly opened to her. Her tongue rushed in to meet Cindy’s, and Lindsay moaned low in her throat.

More. That was her primary thought. She wanted more. She needed more. More was the governing principle of the evening.

And even right there beside her, Cindy seemed too far away. She slid her hand down to Cindy’s pajama-clad hip and tugged, and Cindy fell on top of her, blanketing half of her body. It was absolutely delicious.

All fleeting thoughts of how far she should let this go were resolved when she felt Cindy’s hand move from the outside of her shirt to the skin underneath and push upward. It seemed all bets were off.

Her own hands moved up under the back of Cindy’s shirt and over the smoothest skin she’d ever had the pleasure of touching. Cindy’s lips trembled against her own.

More.

She latched onto the bottom of Cindy’s shirt with both hands and pulled upward, a task greatly complicated when Cindy’s hand reached its destination, and she momentarily lost all ability to think or maneuver. Though her autonomic physical responses were seriously working overtime. It would have been possible to lose herself in the feel of Cindy’s touch, in her increasingly demanding kiss, but one thought propelled Lindsay out of her lust-fueled haze.

More.

She brought all attention back to the one task she was intent upon completing as quickly as possible, and pulled Cindy’s shirt up and over her head, effectively moving Cindy’s hand and mouth away and returning some ability to think. And some measure of control.

Before Cindy could make any further moves of her own, Lindsay wrapped her arms around bare skin and rolled Cindy onto her back. But Cindy was far from submissive. Sometime during the move, she had managed to get both hands under Lindsay’s shirt, and her fingers played against Lindsay’s sides, almost tickling, almost hurting, but undeniably welcome.

Lindsay pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor and lowered herself onto Cindy, skin-to-skin. Cindy stared up at her, with a look of pure wonder. She suspected she had to look much the same. And they were suspended there. And time fell away. Eventually, Cindy’s hand came up between them, and Lindsay felt a shaking finger move across her already kiss-bruised lower lip.

And there was something new in Cindy’s eyes, something consuming and harder to identify. Something that made Lindsay want to slow down and do everything right. She pulled Cindy’s hand away and lowered her head to kiss her. Their lips touched gently, tentatively. Cindy’s fingers clasped around her own where their hands were still together, and she felt Cindy’s other hand on the side of her face, softly exploring the expanse of her cheek and neck and ear.

It felt flawless, and it felt open, and part of her could have stayed in the kiss forever, but another part wanted more.

That part wanted Cindy’s chin as she kissed down over it, and Cindy’s throat, as Cindy pushed her head back into the pillow, granting her more access to the pale skin, the throbbing vein beneath. She took full advantage, licking and drawing on the area until she was sure to leave a mark.

Then, she moved down. Drawn by unexplored areas that she liked to think were in desperate need of her immediate attention.

She tasted the naked, inviting skin of Cindy’s chest, moved down to take an eager nipple into her mouth, but only for a moment. Cindy’s hands against her shoulders were pushing relentlessly, urging her downward.

Glad to see they were on the same page.

When she got to Cindy’s waist, she paused for only the briefest of seconds before sliding her hands down into the back of Cindy’s pants and pushing them downward. Cindy lifted her hips without resistance and she took off the rest of Cindy’s clothing in one fluid movement.

And then she stared. She couldn’t help it. There was just enough light to make out the contours of Cindy’s body, the alabaster tone of her skin.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Lindsay whispered.

Though she wasn’t one for much bedroom talk, the words had seemed to come out of her of their own accord.

For the first time since they’d kissed, a slight smile pulled at Cindy’s lips, which was encouraging.

Lindsay put her hands on either of Cindy’s thighs and persuaded them apart until there was space for her to lie between them.

Cindy’s expression altered again, became something altogether sinful and yearning and expectant and just a little bit nervous.

Lindsay laid her hand across Cindy’s abdomen and waited. Soon enough, Cindy’s hand moved up to lace with her own and she squeezed it reassuringly before lowering her head.

It was a sweet indulgence that she tasted, but it was Cindy’s reaction that nearly sent her through the ceiling. It was the way Cindy’s breath kept catching in her throat and then discharging in harsh pants. The way Cindy’s fingers were clutching at her own.

She had no idea what she was doing, but, call it instinct that it took her no time at all to figure out that anything that made Cindy make *that* sound and reach wildly above her head for something to hang onto was good.

“Linds,” Cindy whispered some minutes later and pulled upward on her hand.

Lindsay went very willingly. At that point, she would have done anything that Cindy requested.

Cindy put her hand on the back of Lindsay’s head and tugged her into a kiss, pulling her hair in the process. Even that felt gratifying. And then she felt Cindy’s other hand leading her own hand, taking it down to where she wanted it. Her fingers ended up against slick, ready skin, and Cindy pushed hard on the back of her hand. And it all came naturally, the more, as she slid her fingers inside.

It was Cindy who tore her lips away, but she was the one who moaned. How could touching someone else like this be so effecting? Cindy gasped and pushed down against her hand, and all she wanted to do was give Cindy more, give her everything she wanted, everything she needed.

A tear slid out of the corner of Cindy’s eye and back toward her hairline. It was only one, but it would have been enough to stop her, enough to make her question, if Cindy hadn’t picked that precise moment to slide her hand down into the waistband of her pajama pants and return the intimate touch.

She felt Cindy’s fingers slide inside her, move inside her. She hadn’t even realized this was the more that she really required until it was happening.

And then she felt Cindy climax, felt the walls around her fingers contract, felt Cindy’s body jerk beneath hers, and lost all ability to hold out, feeling waves of pleasure roll through her, until she became a quivering mass that could no longer hold herself up.

She fell onto Cindy heavily, trapping both of their hands. She could feel Cindy’s heart thumping against her chest. This reaction was her favorite. She hadn’t been aware before she felt the wild beating just how imperative it was for her to make an impact on Cindy’s heart.

Breathing wasn’t an easy task, but Cindy’s attempts at it sounded worse than her own. The fact that she was still lying on top of her certainly couldn’t help. But when she tried to move away, Lindsay was surprised by the force of the grip on her shoulders.

“Don’t go,” Cindy begged, her eyes watery and imploring.

She looked scared.

Why would she think that? Why would she think she was going to leave her alone now?

Lindsay pushed a piece of hair out of her face.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.

And to make sure Cindy understood that point, she kissed her again, firmly on the lips until she felt Cindy relax marginally.

She slid an arm beneath her and pulled Cindy back against her. Cindy grabbed onto the arm across her chest with both hands.

Lindsay pulled the blankets up over them and tucked her other arm around Cindy’s waist. There was still a lot of tension in the body she was holding.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered again in Cindy’s ear.

She felt her hand being lifted and then Cindy’s lips against her palm, before Cindy returned her arm to its original position and latched on with both hands again.

“Good,” she whispered.