Chapter 8 #2
Kirby had thigh tattoos—a coiled snake on one leg and swirling florals on the other. Mara had seen them in TikTok videos and in the locker room. But she had never looked closely. She wanted to look closely.
“For listening.” Her words shocked her, probably shocked them both.
Kirby didn’t stop until their bodies were almost touching. Mara closed her eyes.
She’d fucked up. She’d fucked up. She had no idea what was about to happen, but she had never been so embarrassed.
“Did you like listening, Mara May?” Kirby whispered, danger soaking her voice. Mara could feel the heat from Kirby’s skin.
She was about to cry, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried.
No, wait. That wasn’t true. She’d cried after losing the gold to Kirby by the thinnest margin.
A photo finish. Mara had cried right there at the finish line, barely able to breathe, collapsed on the ground from exertion, her whole body in pain.
She’d seen her teary face as a gif once.
Crying publicly had made the humiliation so much worse.
She had nightmares about it. She was known as an emotionless skier.
She rarely fell to the ground after races.
She didn’t show what she was thinking or feeling—the good or the bad.
She never allowed herself to cry. She’d locked that part of her heart off. She’d put it on ice.
But tears pricked at her right then, threatening to make another appearance.
Kirby dropped the sex toy. It was bright orange. It thunked to the floor. Mara flinched and looked up.
Their eyes locked, and for one brief second, neither of them moved or breathed. They just gazed at each other.
And then Kirby was on her. Against her. Kissing her with a desperation that sunk every shred of resistance Mara would have normally mustered.
Instead, she melted under Kirby’s touch, her searing kiss. The sweep of her tongue. It was rough and a revelation.
“Tell me,” Kirby snapped, ripping her mouth away from Mara’s before kissing her neck. Mara gasped, and her spine seemed to go liquid. “Admit it.”
“What?” Mara managed.
“You liked it. Liked hearing me fuck myself. You’re not as innocent as everyone thinks.”
“I don’t—I’m not…”
Kirby grabbed Mara’s hair, wrapping the long fall of her ponytail around a fist. “Do you want to kiss me back, Mara May?”
Mara tried to lean forward, to show her answer rather than saying it out loud. Kissing Kirby Bonham was a terrible idea. It was ruinous, if Mara were being perfectly honest with herself, but she would do anything to get back to Kirby’s magic mouth.
Kirby’s tight fist in Mara’s hair held her head against the wall, making it impossible for her to move. It should have been embarrassing, trying to get her mouth back to Kirby at Kirby’s demand. Not being able to move because of Kirby’s grip in her hair. But it wasn’t embarrassing. Not at all.
Not yet, at least.
“God, look at you.” Kirby pressed her thigh between Mara’s legs, right against her center, and Mara couldn’t help it—she thrust, grinding against it one time. “That’s it. Feels good, huh?”
Mara should have felt shame, but she didn’t feel anything but a wild, spiraling need. She nodded.
Kirby pressed harder, leaned in and bit her earlobe. “I’m gonna wreck you, princess,” she whispered. “Lick.” She lifted her thumb to Mara’s lips, and Mara obeyed.
Obedience and submission weren’t her usual MO during—Jesus, she couldn’t even call this sex. It was more of a hormonal car crash.
But the whirlwind of it all, the shock, the longing that she’d pushed down for so long was breaking like a dam. She was breaking.
“You want this?” Kirby asked against her mouth. She slipped her hand under the band of Mara’s sweatpants but didn’t go farther.
Mara nodded again.
“Use your big girl words,” Kirby demanded, her voice still mean and so hot Mara gasped. “Mmm, I like your dirty sounds, but I want words.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“I want you to—”
Kirby kissed her harshly for half a second. “Stop there. Stop at ‘I want you.’”
“Okay.” Mara was wet. Her clit was throbbing. She needed so little to come and wanted so much. “I want you.”
“Good.”
Kirby shoved Mara’s pants and underwear down to her thighs. She dragged her thumb over Mara’s clit and through the center of her pussy, gathering up all that wetness in one sweep.
Mara threw her head back. It banged against the living room wall. She hadn’t moved her feet once. She was still planted in the same place she’d been since she’d heard Kirby masturbating in her bedroom.
Kirby grabbed one of Mara’s boobs over her shirt and squeezed it, making a feral noise in the back of her throat that sent another throb through Mara’s whole body.
“Love your tits, Mara May,” Kirby said, voice gravelly. “You’re coming apart, and I’m barely doing anything.”
Shame mingled with Mara’s horniness in a way that just made her feel hotter and more out of control.
Kirby circled Mara’s clit a few times with her thumb before twisting her hand and plunging fingers inside her.
Mara clenched, wanting more. It was so good, and she moved her hips, trying to impale herself deeper on Kirby’s fingers.
“I want…”
“You,” Kirby snapped. She tugged on Mara’s shirt, trying to lift it up, but with only one hand, it didn’t work.
Mara whipped it off. “I want you.”
If she was going to crash the car anyway, she might as well unbuckle and go all in.
“Fuck yes.” Kirby nipped Mara’s shoulder and slid the front zipper of Mara’s sports bra down until her breasts were free and the bra was hanging open.
Kirby spread all the arousal from between Mara’s legs to her clit before pressing her fingers inside again, her thumb strumming a quick, slick rhythm.
“I want you,” Mara said. Then Kirby licked Mara’s nipple into her mouth.
Mara was a breath away from coming, her body tight and shaking. Kirby sucked on one nipple before switching to the other and biting down.
And Mara finally allowed herself to touch. She delved her hands into Kirby’s short wavy hair, held her to her breast, and arched toward her mouth. “Oh, no. I want you. I want you.”
That pinch of pain, the fast and furious thrust of fingers, the flick of a thumb on her clit—it shattered her. And she came harder than she ever had in her entire life.