Chapter 3 #3
Riley takes the blazer from her and calmly slips it back on. As the next dancer prepares herself on stage, she leans in and quips: “So what was it you said about making things harder for myself?”
The complete mess of a woman that Charlotte now is, sneers: “Did you have fun out there?” and Riley has the audacity to shrug and replies: “Yeah. She’s not really my type though.”
Charlotte shuffles to sit up in her chair, not breaking eye contact with Riley, who is still standing in front of her.
Whether it’s the alcohol, the dancing, the atmosphere, Riley herself, or the goddamn thing in her goddamn chest, she doesn’t know, but something makes her take the bait.
She walks right into the trap, eyes wide open.
“Oh yeah? So what is your type?”
The next couple of seconds are excruciating. Neither woman says anything, both breathing heavily. When she realizes Riley isn’t gonna answer her, Charlotte slowly, slowly gets up, until eventually, because Riley is too stubborn to move, their noses almost touch.
Being this close, Charlotte can see the storm that brews in Riley’s eyes. A storm that matches the hurricane coursing through her own body. That connection makes her cave: she knows what she has to do.
For just a fraction of a second, Charlotte’s eyes flick down to Riley’s lips and back up again. It’s almost too subtle, but she knows it’s enough. They keep staring at each other for a just moment longer before Charlotte turns around and walks away.
When she pushes open the bathroom door, she doesn’t need to turn around to know Riley is following closely behind her. Charlotte calmly turns around and leans back, arms crossed, the cool porcelain of the sink pressing in her back.
Riley looks at her with a dark, piercing look in her eyes, almost predatory.
Her lips are slightly parted and her anticipatory grin is back at full force.
With a five-foot gap between them that slowly closes as Riley stalks toward her, Charlotte can’t help but feel like her prey, except for the fact that she willingly cornered herself.
She tilts her chin up in defiance; even if she’s about to be devoured, she needs to be in control.
What she soon realizes is that Riley gives it to her, coming to a halt right in front of her. She just takes Charlotte in, who suddenly knows exactly what to do to finally wipe that smugness off her face. She drops her arms and places her hands on the sink behind her, cocking her head to the side.
“What would you do if I kissed you right now?” she dares, her voice hoarse but confident. Indeed, Riley’s smile falters, even if only for just a moment, and she lets out a throaty laugh.
“If you kissed me right now… I might be about to give you the best makeout of your life.”
The knot in Charlotte’s stomach gets pulled so tightly it feels like a punch to the gut.
She knows the energy that’s been building up inside of her can’t be contained much longer, so she reaches out to Riley’s arm, and yanks her closer.
Riley’s hands land on her hips, their lips meet, and the beast inside her roars.
Her own hands wrap around Riley’s waist as they finally give in to the kiss.
With Riley slightly towering over her, she’s pushed back into the sink as their bodies collide in an undeniable need to be even closer.
It’s slow, but it’s intense; both women desperately inhale each other, pushing their lips together like they are each other’s lifeline.
Charlotte feels one of Riley’s hands slowly tickling up her body, the touch of her fingers light and yet driving her absolutely crazy.
When they reach Charlotte’s neck, she softly scratches at the base of her skull, sending goosebumps all over her body.
Riley’s tongue swipes over her top lip, asking for permission to enter, and Charlotte opens her mouth.
The groan that leaves her throat when she feels the other woman’s tongue consume her—she’s sure that she’s never made a sound like that before.
It’s like Riley is trying to taste every part of her mouth, and Charlotte lets her. In response, her own hands slide lower until they rest on Riley’s leather-clad ass and she pulls their bodies taut. Riley lets out a soft moan that vibrates against her skin, and Charlotte revels in the sound.
Their kiss deepens, and Charlotte decides she wants to do whatever it takes to hear her make that noise again.
However, she’s caught off guard by one hand now sliding its way into her hair, finding a gentle grip, tugging softly yet possessively on the roots.
God, that’s good. It’s Charlotte’s turn to gasp, and she feels Riley smile against her lips.
The heat is almost unbearable; it’s like her body has pushed all the emergency buttons, but at the same time it feels extremely satisfying.
All of her pent up energy expels through the kiss, their hands, their bodies, and it's so freeing, so exciting, and yet relaxing. Her brain has turned to complete mush and she lets her hands explore Riley’s back freely as the kiss gets even more intense, lips and tongues are being sucked and—oh, is Riley nipping at her bottom lip?
A voice in the back of her head challenges her that this is in no way similar to the sloppy makeout sessions with her drunk female classmates that never did anything for her. She realizes it’s true because this time she wants, no, she needs...
“...more,” she all but chokes out when Riley pulls back from the kiss to look at her.
Her slightly swollen lips and hooded eyes are an outright attack to Charlotte’s blood pressure; she can feel her ears ringing.
She registers the heaving of Riley’s chest and the faint sheen of sweat near her hairline, and chuckles coyly at the realization the other woman is just as affected as she is.
So why did she stop kissing her?
Riley blinks as if she’s waking up from a dream, and slides her hands out of Charlotte’s hair, landing back down on her hips.
Charlotte knits her eyebrows together in confusion—and a hint of rejection, maybe—and then bucks her hips forward to give the other woman a silent hint of what she wants. Riley lets out another breathy gasp, throws her chin up, and leans away.
“No,” she says softly, locking eyes with Charlotte again. At the betrayed look in her eyes, Riley digs her thumbs into her hips in a grounding, reassuring gesture, before she steps away completely, and wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
Charlotte feels a brief rush of anger that's quickly replaced by bewilderment. Riley catches it, shakes her head and reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Charlotte’s ear. Her hand stays there, gently cupping Charlotte’s cheek.
“If we’re ever going to do this,” she says softly, motioning between them. “We’re not going to do it in a public bathroom. That’s not how I do things.”
When she sees Charlotte wants to say something but no words come out, she leans in and continues softly: “If we’re ever going to do this, it’s going to be in a large, comfortable bed,” she draws out the words, her voice barely a whisper now.
“If you are ever ready for this, you say the word, and I’m going to take my time with you.
I will teach you things about yourself that even you didn’t know.
You will feel like a fucking queen. I’m going to make you see stars. ”
There is barely any time to progress Riley’s words. Charlotte closes her eyes and shivers. When she opens them again, Riley is already by the door.
“Cuídate, Charlotte,” she says, and disappears from view.
That night, in the safety and comfort of her own bed, is the very first time Charlotte ever touches herself to the idea of a woman—which she knows every woman does at least once in her life.
And when she comes, it’s to the memory of hands in her hair, a body pressed against hers, and Riley’s delicious, beautiful gasps.
As her back arches, she reaches for those promised stars.