That was the most difficult part of being married to Leanna, it was impossible to be properly angry with her. No matter what it was that Rebecca did, it was futile. Her harsh words and warnings inevitably only brought on a glazed look, and the young woman knew her wife was paying more attention to the commanding tones and Irish lilt than the words themselves. When she lost her temper, grabbing hair or that slender throat, even when she found herself choking Leanna in a fierce grip, it only seemed to get Leanna's blood boiling, and Rebecca was hardly able to rebuke that arousal, it was what had brought them together. It certainly didn't help that Leanna knew how to make her mind melt with building lust and overwhelming pleasure.<br/><br/>She held her gaze as Leanna took her place, until that first touch, her hips pushing forwards, back arching to present her wife with a finer view of her breasts as she writhed in delight. That wicked woman knew just how to twist her body against her, teasing her beringed clit with loving expertise, turning her mind as blank as the wall behind her. She wasn't at all shy about digging her hands into that mane of auburn hair, taking a firm hold, though she knew enough to let Leanna work on her own initiative. Her anger and worries were melting away with each flick and lap of that evil tongue, and her eyelids fluttered shut, pouting lips parted to remind herself to keep breathing.<br/><br/>The knock came as though from underwater, at a great distance. Turning her head to the side, her grey green eyes opened to narrow slits, unconsciously sweeping her pink tongue over her bloodred pout. A tiny, niggling thought came burrowing through the warm glow of love and lust, and the redhead found herself trying to solve a very tricky puzzle.<em>Amanda. That was right. Amanda was coming to visit. Amanda was watching her ... Fuck!</em><br/><br/>She shoved Leanna away from her as the crimson blush turned her cheeks dark and poured down over her chest, searching for words even though her tongue felt as though it was made of lead. "No!" Whether it was because she didn't want to be the cause of the woman leaving, or she didn't want Amanda to see her in that state, or she just didn't want it to stop, even she wasn't sure. Amanda was drop dead gorgeous, the woman had given Rebecca a fluttering sensation in her belly, and further down. The petite beauty was a wonder to behold, and Rebecca, confident as she was, always felt self conscious in front of her. It wasn't like she ever thought about the woman, even in a healthy, happy marriage there was nothing wrong with a few fantasies. Even so, Amanda seeing her like that, her skirt tucked up, everything from the waist down on full display, glistening from Leanna's mouth and her own arousal, it wasn't something she'd really expected, or could cope with.<br/><br/>Her heart was thudding in her chest like an enraged bull trying to batter its way out through her ribcage. She was left with the a very troubling choice. Did she slip her panties off her feet so she could run without hopping herself off the floor, or endure the moment it took to bend and pull them back up, with Amanda watching? Deciding that she had no intention of leaving her underwear on the floor in front of the woman, she bent gracefully, made a solemn promise to check their life insurance policies before she strangled her dear wife to death, and pulled her crisp white panties up, the skirt hitching up around her wrists for a moment before she smoothed it down. "Stay. Sorry. I didn't know you were going to come so soon." The words felt as poorly chosen as could be possible, apologising for being with her wife in her own own, apologising for Amanda barging in on them, not to mention the double entendre.<br/><br/>Deciding to pick the wisest course of action, she turned on her bare heel and marched off to the kitchen, shutting the door soundly behind her. Hot, flustered, embarassed and confused, not to mention still aching with unrequited lust, she left the pair to do their catching up while she went to uncover a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, filling a tumbler and throwing it off. Of course, it always looked so much easier in westerns and thrillers, where grizzled men with barbed wire stubble tossed off rotgut like it was water. The dainty redhead, for her part, sputtered as she gulped down the liquid fire, and muffled her coughing against her fist. At least she had the consolation that any welcoming kiss would be flavoured by her arousal.