Was It Something I Did?

Rachael Cavalli's in one hell of a mood when she hits up Gabbie Carter, barely twenty minutes out of her girlfriend's apartment when she already wants her back. 'Get over here,' she says, voice tight and serious. Gabbie shows up quick. Rachael plants her on the couch and drops it straight: they're done. Gabbie blinks like she just took a slap, asks if it's something she fucked up. Rachael says no—it's the ten-plus years between them. She doesn't want to chain Gabbie to some older woman when the kid should be out drinking, dancing, maybe getting bent over in bathrooms by girls her own age. Gabbie stares like Rachael's gone crazy, then laughs. She doesn't give a single shit about clubs or dating rules or peer pressure. What she cares about is how Rachael makes her wet in two minutes flat and still knows every button to push. She says she isn't trading that for anything. The real heat starts when the relief kicks in—Rachael's hands shove up under Gabbie's shirt, and the kiss turns wet and messy. They tear at clothes like they're racing the clock, Rachael burying her face between Gabbie's tits, sucking hard nipples while fingers disappear between her thighs. Gabbie rides two of those fingers, grinding until Rachael's wrist is soaked. They flip, now it's Rachael's turn to get tongue-fucked senseless on the edge of the couch, legs shaking, one hand yanking Gabbie's hair. When the strap comes out, it's fast and greedy; Gabbie working the thick length deep, watching Rachael's mouth fall open, listening to every filthy sound she makes. They come hard, loud, bodies locked together, sweat-slick and grinning like idiots.