Chapter 23 #2
Mallory’s response evaporates as Saskia reaches out to brush her lower lip. And then, wordlessly, she smears the drops of red on her own mouth. Slowly. Like she’s applying lip gloss, waiting for Mallory to kiss it off.
For a moment, Mallory can only stare. Both at Saskia’s undone appearance and the way she’s seen Mallory on the verge of falling apart and hasn’t run away.
Without giving herself time to think, Mallory leans in and presses her lips to Saskia’s.
Like she has no fear left inside her at all.
A new, mutual hunger blossoms between them at the contact. Mallory digs her hands into Saskia’s hair, savoring her saccharine, floral taste while Saskia fists Mallory’s skirt, drawing her closer. They part reddened lips at once, sharing a gasp at the first swirl of their tongues.
“Finally,” Saskia groans. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to kiss you for days.”
Heat pools low in Mallory’s stomach. “Me, too.” Her reply spills into another kiss. “I just…”
She trails off, uncertain how to tell Saskia that she’s spent a long time circling this secret part of herself—one she doesn’t want to keep hidden anymore. She wants to drench herself in pastels and glitter, paint herself on the outside to match who she’s been inside all along.
But she doesn’t have to say anything, because Saskia just seems to know. She pulls back, searching her gaze.
“You’ve never been with a girl before,” she guesses, and Mallory nods. “Well, I’ve never had anyone lick up my blood.” A small grin plays on her shiny lips. “How do you like it so far? Kissing a girl, I mean.”
Mallory matches her smile as she leans back in. “It’s pretty perfect.”
Saskia hums her agreement. “We can go slow,” she says between kisses, curving a hand around Mallory’s waist. “We don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she whispers, fingers trailing down Saskia’s spine. Daring to dip lower, grazing the waistband of her jeans. “I want to do everything you want to do.”
Saskia grins again. The hand at Mallory’s waist slides a little higher. “In that case, you’re wearing way too many clothes.”
Mallory straightens, letting Saskia pull her shirt up and off. Saskia’s stare drops to the balconette cut of her bra.
“You can’t be real,” she says, her hand moving along Mallory’s rib cage, thumb grazing the dark green fabric.
Mallory leans into her touch, and Saskia’s palm curves all the way around her breast. They release parallel sighs at the contact, and when Saskia kisses her again, Mallory reaches for her, too.
Carefully avoiding Saskia’s injuries, Mallory fits her hand around the triangle of black fabric, daring to run her thumb over the hardening peak beneath it.
Saskia exhales a soft groan into her mouth, so Mallory does it again, harder.
Tracing the shape of her nipple through the thin mesh, rolling it tightly between her fingers.
“Fuck—that feels good,” Saskia says, a lilt of surprise to her voice.
Her words, like always, make Mallory feel brave, so she loosens Saskia’s clasp. The garment falls open, and Mallory returns her hand, filling her palm with Saskia’s bare skin.
Saskia wastes no time in finding the hooks at Mallory’s spine, letting her bra slip to the floor, too.
“Fair is fair,” she says playfully, taking in the sight of Mallory in her skirt and torn thigh-high socks before leaning closer.
Close enough for Saskia’s breasts to brush hers, making Mallory desperate to feel every inch of them together.
Saskia must be thinking the same, because she coaxes Mallory onto the rug, lowering her hips. Mallory arches up to meet her, seeking friction against Saskia’s textured denim. A breath shudders from her and Saskia grins into their kiss.
“You really want this, don’t you?” she murmurs, a hand dropping to the inside of Mallory’s thigh, thumbing the top of her sock.
A moan escapes her. Involuntary, messy. “I do,” Mallory confesses, letting her own hands wander down Saskia’s spine, over the firm curve of her backside through her jeans, and finally around to the front.
She pauses, shared breath gathering between their mouths as she hovers her fingers over the buttons.
“Can I?” she asks, and Saskia nods. Mallory loosens the top one, creating just enough room for her hand.
Saskia’s cheeks flush as Mallory skims the top of her underwear. Soft. Cotton. Saskia’s own hand slips higher under Mallory’s skirt, nails grazing soft skin.
Wordlessly, Mallory glides her hand lower. Her breath thins, both at the feel of the damp fabric and at the sound Saskia releases.
“I was going to touch you first,” Saskia says, pouting.
Mallory slowly rotates her fingers. “Too late.”
“Too late?” There’s a challenge in Saskia’s voice. In a flash, her hand is a mirror of Mallory’s, fingers brushing identical damp lace between her legs. “I don’t think so. I’m gonna make you come before me.”
Her words, her touch, everything—it unleashes something unfamiliar and fierce inside Mallory, and she reaches up, flipping their positions once again.
Saskia’s hair blooms like a flower beneath her as Mallory tugs her jeans loose, leaving her black underwear on. Amusement flickers across Saskia’s face as Mallory leans over her, chestnut waves pooling around them like a curtain.
Mallory returns her hand to the space between Saskia’s thighs. “Do you remember,” she says, stroking gently, “when you told me you weren’t my business?”
Saskia’s lashes flutter. “Did I say that?”
“You did.” Mallory punctuates her words with a careful dance of her fingers, circling the fabric. “But you’re my business now, aren’t you?” She dares to slip beneath the hem and releases a groan at the feel of her, soft and silky and so, so wet. “This is my business.”
Something electric slips into Saskia’s expression.
Mallory lowers her forehead to Saskia’s as she drags two fingers through her delicate skin, dipping carefully inside.
Learning her full shape. Strengthened by the feeling of being exactly where she should be, with a girl who just saw her at her worst and chose to stay.
“You’re mine,” Mallory adds in the softest whisper.
“I think we both know,” Saskia breathes, “I’ve been yours for a while now.”
With a low sound, Saskia closes her palm around the back of Mallory’s neck, crushing their mouths together. At the same time, her other hand moves between Mallory’s thighs to drag her underwear to the side—and slides two fingers deep inside.
“Oh god—”
Mallory’s words spiral into incoherence as Saskia hooks her fingers in a curve, sending stars across her vision.
“But just in case it’s not clear, you’re also mine.” Saskia’s voice darkens to something new and wild. “And it’s my turn to taste what belongs to me.”
Before she can say anything, Saskia withdraws her hand—and slides her fingers, glistening with Mallory’s desire, into her mouth. Slowly. Deliberately. Gaze dark and glittering and locked on hers.
“Hmm,” Saskia muses. She licks the pads of her fingers. “That’s not nearly enough.”
Heat surges within her as Saskia flips them back to their original position.
Mallory barely notices the rough landing, barely notices the tug of her skirt down her thighs, barely notices anything but the warmth of Saskia’s mouth as she nudges her knees apart and presses a kiss directly on the soaked fabric at her center.
A whimper escapes her as Saskia does it again, and Mallory instinctively pushes her thighs together, but Saskia counters with a palm on each leg, holding her open, taking her time.
Saskia’s teeth rake over the lace, tongue lazily tracing through her underwear before fluttering with precision. Mallory’s hips nearly shoot off the floor at that, and Saskia looks up.
“How fast are you going to come for me,” she says, “if I take these off and do that again?”
Mallory huffs a frustrated laugh. “Why don’t you find out?”
The garment is gone in an instant, her thigh highs and boots with it. Mallory barely has time to notice before Saskia settles back down to lick a careful stripe directly along her opening.
“God you’re sweet,” Saskia says. “Fuck. Your first time shouldn’t be on a floor, but—” She kisses right where Mallory needs her. “You cleaned me up so well; I think you deserve the same. Right now.”
Mallory releases another soft moan as Saskia teases with little flicks of her tongue. “You could do this to me anywhere and I’d be—”
Every articulate thought evaporates as Saskia finds her clit—and then pulls it straight into her mouth.
“Fuck—” Mallory cries out.
“Too much?” Saskia asks, and she shakes her head.
“No.” Mallory threads her fingers in Saskia’s hair. “More.”
She feels the curve of Saskia’s smirk as she continues sucking gently, her tongue sweeping in firm, massaging strokes. She adds the scrape of her teeth and the coaxing slide of a finger, and Mallory flexes her toes against the fluffy rug.
“So that’s how you like it,” Saskia murmurs, and Mallory just nods, delirious.
Gone are Saskia’s playful kisses, the gentle caresses.
This is something else. Saskia somehow knows exactly where to place her mouth, her hands, forcing Mallory’s spine into an arch.
She holds Saskia’s hair, the floor, anything she can grasp.
The room swims in gold as she staggers closer and closer to the edge, feeling her release building like a colliding galaxy of heat and stars.
“Saskia,” she works out. “Saskia, I’m—”