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“I think I've faked more orgasms than I've actually had,” Alice announced, lifting her glass and taking a slow, distracted sip. She spoke like she was just commenting on the wine rather than casually admitting to a half-life of sexual performance art.
The conversation at the table stopped cold, like someone had hit the pause button. A few heads turned, eyebrows arched in a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. For a moment, Alice seemed oblivious to the ripple she’d caused, staring into her drink as if there was something profound hidden in the ice cubes.
Shane, who had been studying the menu with her usual laid-back detachment, barely glanced up. She shrugged one shoulder, her expression entirely unbothered.
“I’m pretty sure no one’s ever faked it with me.”
Alice’s head snapped toward Shane, slowly raising one brow as if to say, Seriously? She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes practically daring Shane to double down on her claim.
Shane caught the look and allowed a lazy, half-smirk to curl at the corner of her mouth. She didn’t seem rattled in the slightest. “You can tell when it’s fake, Alice,” Shane added, sounding almost bored. “Trust me... I’ve never felt it.”
The challenge hung in the air between them, a charged silence stretching out as Alice shook her head slowly, like Shane’s confidence was both impressive and a little tragic.
Dana, caught between them, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her hands fidgeted on the edge of the table, fingers tracing invisible patterns against the wood. She looked like she was trying to make herself smaller but just a moment later, she took a breath, as if gathering the courage to speak.
“I don’t even remember the last time I had an orgasm,” she admitted, her voice low and almost wistful. She wasn’t looking at either of her friends, her gaze fixed on a useless point of the table. “With someone, I mean.”
Alice’s eyes softened, a flicker of something like sympathy crossing her face. Shane’s relaxed posture tensed just a fraction, enough for those who knew her well to notice. The silence that followed felt heavier, like the air had thickened around the table. Dana tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, trying to hide the flush spreading up her neck.
Then, just when the weight of the confession threatened to crush the mood entirely, a sharp, well-timed cough broke through the tension.
The waiter was standing at the edge of the table, poised and professional, his face an almost perfect mask of composure—except for the slightly widened eyes that betrayed his discomfort. He’d been standing there for a while, waiting for the conversation to reach a more socially acceptable point.
“Excuse me, ladies... would you like a dessert?” he asked, his voice perfectly level despite the awkwardness of the situation.
Alice’s head turned slowly toward him, a sly smile curving her lips. She looked him up and down with playful deliberation, her eyes gleaming with mischievous intent.
“Are you promising a good time, or is it just dessert like…dessert...?”
Alice burst out laughing, clearly entertained by her own audacity while the waiter’s ears turned a faint shade of pink. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but no sound came out. Shane snorted softly, clearly fighting back a laugh, while Dana buried her face in her hands, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, “Oh my God.”
Alice didn’t drop the smile, just tilted her head as if genuinely waiting for an answer. The waiter cleared his throat again, his professionalism barely holding together. Visibly rattled, he seemed to seek refuge in his notepad, eyes glued to the paper as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. One by one, the women ordered their desserts. The waiter scribbled down the orders, nodded briskly, and practically fled from the table, moving faster than seemed necessary. Alice, watching his retreating figure, just shrugged, clearly proud of her effect.
“Maybe that was a little too much for him?” Shane teased, raising an eyebrow.
Alice grinned. “Please. I was just being…fun. Poor guy needs to loosen up.”
Dana shot her a look of mild exasperation. “You almost broke him, Alice.”
Bette, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “It’s happened to me before.” The sudden confession made the other women turn toward her. The brunette leaned back in her chair, unfazed by the attention. Then she shifted slightly, turning to Tina, her smile softening, becoming almost tender.
“But not since I’ve been with you, babe,” she added, her hand sliding up Tina’s thigh under the table, fingers tracing lazy patterns on the inside of her knee, as if to emphasize her words. Tina’s lips curved into a small, private smile, her gaze briefly meeting Bette’s. She couldn’t hide how the touch was subtle, affectionate, but also undeniably possessive.
Bette let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Mostly it happened with boys... God, some of those experiences were so bad. Sometimes I’d fake it after ten seconds just to get out alive and go finish myself off in peace.”
Shane’s expression remained neutral, but her eyes gleamed with quiet amusement. “Lucky for me, I don’t have any of those in my archives,” she quipped, giving Bette a conspiratorial look. Bette chuckled, a brief, almost relieved laugh.
Alice, who had been sipping her drink, turned to face Bette with a mock-serious expression. “You know what? Now that I think about it, it’s way more common for me to fake it with men too.” She paused, looking upward as if genuinely calculating, a wry smile playing at the edges of her lips. “Yeah… definitely more frequent.”
Dana, who seemed to have missed a key piece of the conversation, leaned forward, brows furrowing. “Shane… what did you mean earlier, when you said you can tell if it’s fake?”
Shane smirked, taking a moment to draw out the suspense. She set her glass down, tapping it lightly with her fingers, as if debating whether to answer seriously or keep it vague. Eventually, she gave in, shooting Dana an almost pitying look. “It’s the way they react. You can feel it. The tension in their body, how they move against you... If it’s fake, there’s something off. No flow. Like they’re trying to rush through a scene to get it over with. You know when they’re just… performing.”
Dana’s eyes widened slightly, her lips parting as if she’d just learned something groundbreaking. She glanced at Alice, then Bette and Tina, trying to piece together the subtleties.
“Also,” Shane added, her tone still relaxed, “if they’re overdoing it—like, way too loud, way too fast. It just doesn’t feel… real.”
Alice snorted, giving a mock salute. “Guilty. Sometimes you just have to crank up the theatrics to speed things along.”
Bette squeezed Tina’s thigh gently, almost instinctively, giving her a look that was both warm and reassuring before turning to Dana. “Sometimes it’s not even about the other person,” Bette said, her voice soft but steady. “Well, do we all agree that sometimes it’s just... exhaustion, frustration? Like you’re too tired to keep trying, and you’d rather just get it over with and be done.”
Alice nodded emphatically, her eyes widening as if Bette had just articulated a universal truth. “Exactly. It’s not always about them being bad at it. Sometimes you’re just not feeling it, and you don’t want to deal with the aftermath of explaining why. It’s just less hassle.”
Shane watched Alice with a faint, crooked smile that held a trace of irony. Then she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, as if about to share a closely guarded secret.
“It’s all in the details, Dana. That’s how you know if it’s real... or not,” Shane said, her voice low and rough, like gravel rolling over velvet.
Dana’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What details again?”
Shane’s lips parted, ready to explain, that husky, unhurried tone on the verge of spilling out. But before she could speak, a voice that had remained silent until now cut through the conversation—clear, calm, and unexpectedly firm.
“If you’re really good at faking it, no one will notice, Shane.”
The words fell like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through the group. Tina’s tone carried a sharp, cutting elegance. She took a sip of her wine, savoring it, before lowering her glass just enough to peer over the rim at the others. Her gaze was cool, curious, like she’d just tossed a grenade and was waiting to see where it would land.
Silence fell around the table, thicker and more tangible than before. All eyes shifted to Tina. Alice’s mouth dropped open just slightly, as if the unexpected declaration had short-circuited her usual quick wit. Shane’s eyebrows arched in intrigue, and even Dana looked startled, her expression torn between curiosity and confusion.
But it was Bette who reacted the most visibly. She turned to Tina slowly, her own wine glass poised halfway to her lips, as if frozen in time. One eyebrow lifted, her lips forming a faint, uncertain smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“You... fake it?” Bette asked, her voice still gentle, but now carrying the faintest hint of vulnerability. Her hand, which had been resting on Tina’s thigh, withdrew almost instinctively, as if needing to create a little space to process the unexpected confession. Her smile faltered, and she set her glass down on the table a little too carefully, as if worried it might slip from her fingers. Tilting her head, Bette studied Tina’s face, trying to figure out whether this was a joke or a revelation.
“Well, it’s happened,” Tina replied, her tone even, her finger tracing the stem of her glass with that serene calmness that always drove Bette a little crazy. Shane and Alice exchanged a glance, their eyes gleaming with barely contained amusement, like two spectators who hadn’t seen the plot twist coming and were now just waiting for the climax.
A faint flush crept up Bette’s neck and onto her cheeks, a wave of warmth that made her feel strangely exposed. She took a small, steadying breath, as if trying to gather enough courage to voice the question that was now pressing against her chest.
“Have you ever faked it with… me?”
In that moment, it was as if the entire world faded into the background—the noisy restaurant, the clinking of glasses, the hum of conversations—all muffled and distant. It was just her and Tina, caught in this suspended moment, like a fragile bubble that could burst with the wrong answer. Tina kept her gaze lowered, still focused on her wine glass, as if measuring every word before releasing it. The tension at the table thickened, and even Alice’s usual smirk faded into something more cautious.
Bette leaned forward, elbows resting on the edge of the table, before catching herself and leaning back against the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes stayed fixed on Tina, waiting, needing to hear the truth, whatever it was.
“Answer me, Tina,” Bette pressed, her voice firmer now but not unkind.
Finally, the blonde looked up, and the sudden warmth in her gaze hit Bette like a punch. Tina set her glass down with care, her fingers lingering on the delicate crystal.
“Bette,” Tina began, her tone soft, “I’m not going to answer that question.”
Bette’s jaw tensed, her stomach twisted, and she straightened in her seat, unfolding her arms, her gaze sharpening. “Why not?”
Tina let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, her smile remaining just a touch too calm. “Because it’s a trap, and I’m not walking into it,” she replied, finally meeting Bette’s eyes with a steadiness that almost dared her to keep pushing.
Shane raised an eyebrow, somehow enjoying the subtle push-and-pull unfolding in front of her. Alice, on the other hand, looked like she was trying not to participate, her lips twitching at the corners. Bette didn’t seem to notice their reactions as she kept her focus on Tina, her expression caught between suspicion and a need for reassurance. “Tina, just tell me. Have you ever faked it with me?”
Tina’s eyes softened, and she reached out, her hand finding Bette’s on the table, fingers brushing gently over her knuckles.
“Baby, no one’s questioning your... abilities in bed,” Tina said, her voice warm and soothing. There was something almost tender about the way she said it, as if trying to shield Bette from her own insecurities.
Bette’s lips twitched into a half-smile, but she didn’t fully relax. “That’s not an answer,” she murmured.
Alice, never one to miss a chance to stir the pot, chimed in casually, as if she were just continuing the conversation. “Well, it’s true. I always came when I was with you, Bette.”
The silence that followed was so sudden and thick it felt like the entire restaurant had just collectively lost its breath. Shane immediately rolled her eyes, a little exasperated by her friend, while Dana let out a small, choked laugh, trying to suppress her embarrassment.
“Alice!” they all exclaimed in unison, voices almost harmonized in their collective outrage.
Alice just shrugged, raising her hands in mock surrender. “What? What did I say?”
Shane shook her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Maybe not the best timing, Al.”
But Bette didn’t even seem to register Alice’s interruption. Her gaze remained fixed on her girlfriend, her expression serious and unyielding. That relaxed smile from a moment before had vanished, Bette could feel something knotting inside her, a mix of insecurity and disbelief that she couldn’t quite shake off. Her mind was working overtime, trying to balance her confidence in their relationship with the unease creeping in, slow and uninvited.
“I know it’s not about my skills in bed,” Bette said, her tone hardly masking her trying to gain some control. “I just want to know if you’ve ever faked it with me, Tina.”
The question hung in the air like a challenge, and the playful atmosphere at the table seemed to dissipate entirely. Tina hesitated, her eyes meeting Bette’s, but before she could respond, the tension was shattered by the arrival of the waiter, who appeared at the worst possible — or best — moment with a tray full of desserts. He placed the dishes on the table one by one, blissfully unaware of the emotional minefield he’d just walked into.
Alice, sensing an opportunity to diffuse the situation—or at least to redirect some of the awkwardness—leaned toward the waiter and gave him a conspiratorial nod, making an okay sign with her fingers.
“For the first time, a man with perfect timing,” she whispered in a low, amused tone.
The waiter looked a bit disoriented, his eyes darting around the table as if he had completely lost track of the conversation. He carefully set down the plates in front of each of the women, his gaze shifting from one to the other, vaguely concerned that he might have missed something important. After a hesitant pause, he chose discretion and slipped away quietly, moving with the kind of cautious speed reserved for those who’ve accidentally wandered into the wrong room.
Alice smirked, completely unbothered, and shook her head, Shane coughed, trying to suppress her laughter, while Dana looked between the others, still trying to piece together the conversation.
But Bette still didn’t join the moment. Instead, she turned away, breaking eye contact with Tina, as if physically distancing herself could somehow ease the uncomfortable knot that had settled in her chest. Her fingers tightened around her glass, and she took a slow sip of water, more to distract herself than to quench her thirst, with a movement that felt mechanical, forced, as if she was on autopilot.
She couldn’t shake the thought, the unsettling possibility that Tina might have done that with her not getting a single clue of it. The idea felt like a small, sharp pain just under her ribs, one that she couldn’t quite dislodge. Bette hated how vulnerable it made her feel, especially in front of the others. Vulnerability wasn’t something she showed easily.
A strained silence settled over the group, the kind that made every little sound feel amplified. It was Dana who finally broke the quiet, her voice hesitant.
“So... how do you even fake it well?” she asked, her tone both curious and genuinely unsure. She looked at Alice first, then at Shane, clearly expecting one of them to answer.
Bette turned her head, her gaze cutting between Tina and Dana, her jaw clenched tight. When she spoke, her voice was sharper than she intended, edged with hurt and frustration.
“Ask Tina,” Bette snapped, the words coming out more acidic than she’d planned. “Apparently, she’s so good at it she’s been faking it with me for years, and I never even noticed.”
***
The drive home was marked by a heavy, almost tangible silence. Bette kept her hands tightly on the steering wheel, her gaze fixed straight ahead, muscles tense and unmoving. Next to her, Tina shifted in her seat, glancing at Bette every now and then, worrying etching lines into her forehead. Neither of them dared to speak, as if afraid that even the smallest word might cause the knot of tension between them to unravel into something worse.
When they finally pulled into the driveway, Bette parked the car and as soon as the engine died, she stepped out, shutting the door with a sharp, deliberate slam while Tina hesitated before following, moving slower.
Once inside, Bette didn’t stop, didn’t even glance back. She moved through the living room as if Tina weren’t there, heading straight to the kitchen. The air between them felt like static, crackling with unresolved anger. Bette yanked open the cabinet, pulled out the whiskey bottle, and poured herself a nearly full glass. She brought it to her lips, taking a long, determined sip, like she needed the burn to quiet the fire inside her.
Tina stood at the entrance, watching from a distance. She hesitated, unsure whether to approach or give Bette space. Finally, after some tense seconds, she took a few cautious steps forward to the kitchen.
“Are you planning to keep this silent treatment going for much longer?” Tina asked, her voice low, almost as if afraid of breaking a fragile balance.
Bette didn’t respond right away. She stared into the amber liquid, swirling it slowly, her jaw clenched tight. A bitter, almost mocking laugh escaped her.
“Bette, it’s not fair, you acting like this,” Tina murmured, her voice more sad than angry.
Bette let out another harsh, strained laugh, one that sounded almost painful. “Isn’t it?” she shot back, her tone sharper than she intended. “You basically said you’re good enough to fool me. So, I don’t know... you tell me what’s fair for you.”
Tina moved closer, her posture careful but resolute, not letting Bette’s bitterness push her away. “I never said that,” she replied, her voice both firm and gentle. “And I definitely didn’t mean it that way. I was making a point, not accusing you of... not satisfying me.”
Bette didn’t reply. She just finished the whiskey in one more long, forceful gulp and set the glass down on the counter with a sharp, careless motion. The impact made a few drops spill onto the counter, and Tina watched them spread, her gaze tracking the small, amber stain. Then her eyes shifted back to Bette, who still wouldn’t look at her.
Bette’s voice broke the quiet, louder now, tinged with frustration. “You know what I can’t stand about this whole thing?” she burst out, finally turning to face Tina. “The fact that you said it like that at the table, in front of everyone. Now Alice is going to record it in her mental archive, and—”
Tina raised her hand, trying to cut her off. “Bette, once again, please listen to me, your skills in bed aren’t the issue here,” she said firmly.
Bette’s jaw tightened, and she swallowed down the last remnants of her pride along with the taste of whiskey. “Still,” she said, quieter now, but no less hurt. “I’d rather know these things in private if you absolutely feel the need to share them.”
She didn’t wait for Tina to respond. Instead, she pushed past her, leaving the kitchen and heading straight to the bathroom. The door closed firmly behind her, and Tina remained standing by the counter, frozen in place for a moment. The tension in the room seemed to seep into her bones, heavy and slightly suffocating.
She let out a long, slow breath and moved, picking up Bette’s empty glass. After a moment’s thought, she poured herself another serving of whiskey. She swirled the liquid, watching how it moved in the glass, while she could hear the muffled sound of water running from the bathroom, and that soft, steady rush only made the silence around her feel thicker. Tina brought the glass to her lips, savoring the warmth that spread through her chest as the whiskey trickled down her throat.
After a few minutes, the blonde moved to their bedroom, slipping off her shoes and standing at her side of the bed. She reached up, unclasping her earrings, fingers moving methodically as she placed them on the nightstand. Her shoulders were tense, jaw set as if trying to decide whether to fight to make things right with Bette or just surrender to the pull of sleep.
Tina was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear Bette approach, didn’t notice her presence until she felt warm hands sliding around her waist from behind. Bette’s arms encircled her, pulling her back against her chest, and Tina couldn’t help but exhale slowly, leaning into the contact. Bette pressed her lips to the place where Tina’s neck met her shoulder, her lips lingering there, soft but deliberate, as if she couldn’t resist tasting the skin just once.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Bette whispered, her voice low, rough around the edges.
Tina closed her eyes, surrendering to the feeling of Bette’s lips brushing over her skin, her breath hot against the sensitive curve. She melted into Bette’s hold, letting her head fall back to rest on the brunette’s shoulder, exposing more of her neck.
“Why are you so obsessed with one fake orgasm,” Tina murmured, a sly smile tugging at her lips, “when you could be busy giving me a real one?”
The words slipped out in a low, teasing tone, and Bette couldn’t suppress the quiet, throaty laugh that followed. And just like that, the tension between them shifted, taking on a different heat.
Bette couldn’t help herself—she kissed the spot again this time slower, more purposeful. Her hands tightened around Tina’s waist, pulling her even closer, the line of their bodies aligning perfectly. The blonde shivered, feeling the firm press of Bette’s hips against her. Tina’s scent filled Bette’s senses, soft and familiar, tinged with that trace of whiskey from earlier. Her nose brushed the delicate skin as she inhaled deeply. Tina’s sigh was barely audible, but Bette caught it, knowing exactly what it meant.
God, Bette loved that sound—the way Tina’s breath would catch just slightly when she touched her like this. Bette let her mouth move, grazing Tina’s skin with her teeth, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her shiver.
Tina let out a quiet, broken moan, the sound vibrating through Bette’s chest. The blonde tilted her head more, giving her girlfriend better access and the brunette took the chance as she bit down gently at the junction of Tina’s neck and shoulder, feeling the way her body responded, her back arching, hands gripping Bette’s hands around her waist. Bette’s teeth barely pinched, just to feel the skin pull, before she soothed the spot with a soft, lingering kiss.
“I’m still mad at you,” Bette whispered against her skin, but the way her lips trailed over Tina’s shoulder betrayed the spark of excitement running through her.
Tina chuckled, the sound low and husky, as her fingers traced the inside of Bette’s wrist, coaxing her to loosen her grip just a little. “Even better, I like it when you’re a little angry...” she whispered back, her tone just as teasing, just as deliberate.
Bette’s mouth moved back up to Tina’s ear, her breath ghosting over the sensitive spot just beneath her earlobe.
“Is that what you want?” she murmured, her voice dropping to that dark, sultry pitch that always sent a thrill down Tina’s spine. “For me to be a little angry when I touch you?”
Tina smirked, “Sometimes…” she answered, arching her back, letting Bette feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her dress. “…it has its own…pros.”
Bette bit her lip, fighting the urge to press Tina into the mattress right then. Instead, she let her hands slide upward, over Tina’s ribs, grazing the underside of her breasts through the fabric of the light summer dress. Tina pushed back against her, the curve of her ass fitting perfectly against Bette’s hips, and the brunette groaned, low and rough.
Tina felt Bette’s lips move back to her neck, kissing, licking, her tongue tracing light, teasing patterns on her skin. One of Bette’s hands slid up to cup Tina’s breast, her thumb circling over the hardened peak through the thin fabric, coaxing a breathless moan from her lips.
“You know that you’re the one who’s not being fair tonight,” Bette whispered, her lips brushing against Tina’s ear. “First you drive me crazy with those doubts... and now you’re doing this.”
Tina shivered at the words, her body responding with a wave of heat that pooled low in her belly. Bette slid one hand up, keeping her other arm wrapped securely around Tina’s waist. Her fingers traced along Tina’s jawline, tilting her head back just slightly, and then her thumb grazed over Tina’s bottom lip.
“Open,” she ordered, her voice low and firm.
Tina’s lips parted immediately, and Bette didn’t hesitate, slipping her thumb inside. Tina’s mouth closed around it, and she sucked slowly, her tongue swirling around the pad with sensual strokes. Bette’s eyes darkened, her lips parting as she watched, captivated by the way Tina’s tongue moved—languid, purposeful. A tight, burning heat coiled low in Bette’s belly, desire pooling with a fierce, aching intensity.
Tina reached for Bette’s other hand, her fingers wrapping around the wrist with a firm but gentle grip. She guided Bette’s hand beneath the hem of her dress, drawing it upward, the fabric brushing against their skin. She paused just as Bette’s palm pressed against the soft cotton of her panties, holding it there, not letting go. Bette could feel the dampness soaking through, unmistakable and undeniable.
“Oh, Tina,” Bette murmured, her voice heavy with desire. Her mouth moved to the back of Tina’s neck, lips brushing over the sensitive skin as her fingers pressed more firmly against Tina’s center. The blonde released Bette’s thumb with a soft, wet sound, her breathing ragged as she leaned back into Bette’s touch.
“What do you think?” she whispered, her tone edged with challenge and arousal. “Is this real enough for you?”
Bette’s fingers moved in slow circles, the friction light but enough to make Tina shiver. The blonde couldn’t hold back the moan that spilled from her lips, her hips moving instinctively to chase the pressure.
“That’s something I can’t fake,” Tina added, her voice breathless, eyes half-lidded with need.
A deep, rolling wave of pleasure coursed through her, and her knees softened, threatening to give out. Tina’s legs wavered, the intensity making her feel weightless and a little unsteady. Sensing it, Bette tightened her hold, her arm slipping more securely around Tina’s waist, keeping her grounded. The strength of Bette’s grasp steadied Tina, giving her something solid to cling to as her body trembled, caught between vulnerability and the overwhelming need pulsing through her veins.
“I’ve got you,” Bette breathed, her voice reassuring. When she pulled her hand away, Tina almost whimpered at the loss. But before she could protest, Bette gripped the hem of Tina’s dress and slowly lifted it, sliding it up and over her hips. The fabric skimmed along the thighs, grazing the skin as it rose higher. Bette took her time, pulled the dress up and over Tina’s shoulders, sliding it off completely.
The cool air hit Tina’s bare thighs, and she shivered again, not from cold but from the delicious anticipation winding through her. Then Bette let her hands trace the lines of Tina’s waist before reaching around to the center clasp of the bra. With a practiced flick, it came undone and slipped away, joining the dress on the floor.
Bette’s hands skimmed back up, tracing the newly exposed skin, fingertips brushing lightly over Tina’s bare shoulders. As her palms moved downward, Bette noticed the faint, slightly reddened lines the bra had left on Tina’s skin—gently, almost reverently, Bette traced those marks with her fingers, smoothing over the faint impressions, as if trying to erase them with her touch. Bette leaned down, brushing her lips over the marks, kissing the places where the fabric had pressed too hard. She lingered there, her movements tender and unhurried, as if making up herself for the discomfort.
Bette let her hands slide back up to Tina’s shoulders and then turned Tina’s face toward her, her fingers firm under her chin, guiding her until their lips were just a breath apart. Bette kissed her, deep and slow, her tongue sliding against the blonde’s.
When she pulled back, her eyes were dark, her pupils blown wide with lust. Her lips found Tina’s earlobe, nipping gently before sucking it into her mouth. Her breath was hot against her skin as she whispered “Will you be good for me now?”
Tina let out a low, throaty whisper. “Yes.”
Bette’s hand moved to the back of Tina’s neck, fingers splayed over her spine, and she slowly pushed her forward, bending her at the waist until Tina was leaning over the edge of the bed, exposing the curve of her ass and the barely-there lace of her panties. She placed her hands on the bed to steady herself, fingers splayed against the cool sheets, her body instinctively adjusting to the new position as Bette ran her hands over the blonde’s hips savoring the way her girlfriend trembled under her touch.
Tina turned her head, glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes hooded and dark, locking onto Bette’s gaze, her eyes never leaving Tina’s as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her panties. Slowly, deliberately, she tugged them down with a fluid motion, the soft fabric brushing over Tina’s hips, then sliding down her thighs, leaving a faint trail of goosebumps in its wake.
As the panties slipped lower, Bette’s fingertips grazed Tina’s skin, light as a whisper, and she could feel the way Tina’s body reacted at the contact. The whole time, Bette didn’t break eye contact, drinking in the way Tina’s lips parted with a soft, breathless sigh.
When the fabric finally pooled at her ankles, the blonde stepped out of them, and Bette couldn’t help but bite her lip, eyes tracing the line of Tina’s legs.
Bette’s hands found their way back to Tina’s waist, thumbs caressing the bare skin just above her hips, before she leaned in close again, lips brushing Tina’s ear, her voice a commanding murmur.
“On the bed, my love. Kneel,” Bette whispered, and without a thought, Tina lowered herself onto the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress. There was something so fluid, so natural in the way she obeyed, her movements instinctive, almost automatic.
“My good girl,” Bette praised, and the softness of the words made Tina’s stomach tighten.
Bette moved behind her, one hand sliding up Tina’s spine, following the elegant curve until it rested between her shoulder blades. With a gentle press, she guided Tina to lean forward, her hands braced against the bed for support.
“Could you spread your thighs for me, baby?” Bette asked, and Tina shifted, opening herself wider, a shiver running through her at the exposed feeling. Bette hummed appreciatively, her hands settling on Tina’s hips, holding her steady. She traced a slow, lazy line up the inside of Tina’s thigh, her fingertips grazing the sensitive skin. The heat radiating from her center was undeniable, and Bette’s lips parted in a low, approving groan.
“Fuck,” Bette’s voice was thick with arousal as she dipped her head, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of Tina’s neck. Her lips lingered there, brushing over the fine hairs. Bette’s hands tightened on her hips, and she couldn’t resist leaning down further, her mouth trailing down Tina’s spine. When she reached the small of her back, she nipped lightly at the skin, and Tina arched, pushing her hips back instinctively.
“You are so good for me,” Bette murmured, her breath a warm caress against Tina’s skin. Her fingers traced the curve of Tina’s ass before slipping between her thighs, brushing against her folds with a featherlight touch. Tina’s whole body shuddered, and Bette let out a soft curse, savoring the way Tina’s heat soaked her fingertips.
Bette moved up again, until her mouth was to the side of Tina’s neck again, her lips ghosting over the tender skin. “Tell me you want this,” Bette whispered, her tone dripping with hunger.
Tina bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan as Bette’s fingers circled her entrance, not quite pushing in. Her body tensed, hips shifting, craving more.
“Bette... please,” she whispered, the word trembling on her lips, breaking like a plea.
And that was enough for Bette to slide two fingers inside, slow and deep, savoring the way Tina’s body immediately clenched around her. A deep, guttural moan spilled from Tina’s lips, and her head fell forward as her back arched even more.
“Oh God,” Tina gasped, and Bette couldn’t help the wicked smile that tugged at her lips. Her free hand moved upward, finding Tina’s breast, fingers curling around the soft weight as she squeezed gently.
The brunette moved her lips to Tina’s shoulder, biting down just hard enough to leave a faint mark, soothing the sting with a wet, slow kiss. Tina’s legs trembled, as Bette started a slow, deliberate rhythm, her fingers curling upward with each thrust, seeking the spot that always made Tina shudder. She wasn’t in a hurry—she wanted to draw it out, feel every pulse of Tina’s body as she gave in to the pleasure.
Her lover’s breath already came in broken, uneven gasps, and her hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white. The pace was torturous, each stroke deliberate, slow, making Tina feel every inch of Bette’s fingers filling her. The blonde couldn’t help herself—she rocked back harder, grinding against Bette’s hand, each movement sending a fresh wave of heat through her veins. Bette’s fingers picked up speed, slipping deeper, and she moved her thumb, pressing it firmly against Tina’s clit, stroking in rhythm with her thrusts.
Bette felt Tina’s thighs tense, the heat between them intensifying. She knew Tina was already close, her whole body drawn taut like a bowstring. But she wasn’t ready to let her come just yet, so she withdrew her fingers, earning a desperate, breathy whimper from Tina.
But before she could protest more, Bette moved, better positioning herself behind Tina, her hands sliding down the blonde’s hips, guiding her to arch a little more. Bette’s mouth traced the curve of Tina’s spine, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her back. With a firm grip on her hips, Bette leaned down, spreading Tina’s thighs just a little wider before her mouth found its destination. She kissed the soft skin of the inner thigh, letting her tongue drag lazily over the sensitive spot before moving higher.
The first press of Bette’s mouth against Tina’s center was unhurried, savoring, as her tongue flicked gently over her folds, gathering the taste of her. Tina gasped, her hips jerking back reflexively, but Bette held her in place, fingers digging into her skin.
Her tongue flattened, pressing deeper, and Tina let out a choked moan, her body trembling as Bette’s mouth worked her slowly, thoroughly. She alternated between long, slow licks and quick, teasing flicks of her tongue, letting Tina feel the contrast, the unpredictable rhythm keeping her on edge. She hummed against her, the vibration sending a new pulse of heat through Tina’s core.
Bette’s mouth became more relentless, her tongue moving faster and Tina cried out but the brunette didn’t let up, her hands sliding up to cup Tina’s ass, holding her in place as her tongue delved deeper, sucking and licking, her pace increasing as she felt Tina’s body start to give in–her thighs began to tremble, her moans grew louder and her breaths coming in short, ragged bursts.
“Oh—God, Bette—” Tina panted, her voice fractured, every nerve on fire.
Bette felt the telltale tightening, the way Tina’s hips began to stutter against her mouth, and she knew Tina was again on the brink. So, just when Tina’s moans grew desperate, her body tensing as the orgasm threatened to crash over her, Bette pulled back abruptly, leaving Tina gasping.
“No—no no no no, please…” Tina’s protest was a broken whimper, her body collapsing forward onto the bed, trembling with unspent need. She pressed her forehead to the mattress, trying to catch her breath, the ache between her legs almost unbearable.
Bette leaned over her, brushing her lips against the small of Tina’s back, the faintest smirk curving her lips.
“Stay still,” she whispered commandingly. “Don’t move.”
Tina could only moan softly as it seemed that every word escaped her, her legs still shaking. She stayed where she was, her body pliant and ready, though every part of her screamed for more and for a final release.
Bette pushed herself up, leaving Tina on her knees, back arched, skin flushed and glowing. As she moved toward the dresser behind her, she couldn’t take her eyes off Tina—kneeling there, spread out, skin shimmering with a fine sheen of sweat, her breathing ragged. Bette drank in the sight, her own body humming with anticipation.
While walking, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her white linen pajama trousers, pushing them down over her hips, letting them slip down her thighs and pool at her ankles. She kicked them off carelessly and then she reached for the hem of her white tank top, pulling it up and over her head in one smooth motion, revealing her bare skin beneath. The fabric brushed against her curves before she let it fall to the floor, forgotten. Her dark curls tumbled over her shoulders as she stood there for a moment, completely exposed, letting Tina feel her presence, knowing that her nakedness would only heighten Tina’s need. The blonde turned her head slightly, and her body tensed even more in anticipation, every muscle aching for Bette’s touch and proximity.
Bette pulled open the drawer, her fingers finding the familiar leather of the harness, and with a practiced motion, she strapped it around her hips. She tightened the buckles, her movements deft and sure, adjusting the length until it fit snugly against her body, comfortable and secure. The dark silicone length curved forward. With everything securely in place, she moved back to Tina and knelt behind her. Bette’s hands moved to the blonde’s hips, caressing them before sliding up her sides, feeling the smooth, warm skin under her palms. She leaned in, pressing her bare chest against Tina’s back, letting her hardened nipples drag against Tina’s heated skin.
“Bette,” Tina whispered, the sound slipping from her lips like a breathless prayer. When the toy brushed against the inside of Tina’s thigh, she swallowed hard, the heat pooling low in her belly, spreading through her body in hot, pulsing waves. “Baby...”
Tina shifted, unable to stay still, her hands fisting in the sheets as Bette took her time, leaving a trail of kisses down her shoulder blade, then back up to her nape. The contrast between the softness of Bette’s mouth and the hard press of the toy against her skin made Tina’s mind go hazy, every thought dissolving into pure need. A lazy, wicked smile curved Bette’s lips, knowing exactly how worked up Tina was getting, how close she was to begging.
“Are you still good for me?” Bette whispered, her voice low and sweet, laced with authority.
“Stop playing, Bette.” Tina’s voice came out in a shaky whisper, almost a plea, as her cheeks flushed a deep, heated pink. There was something overwhelming about being in this position, feeling Bette’s eyes on her, tracing every inch of her exposed body. The air around them seemed thicker, charged with the friction of wanting but not yet having. She bit her lip, trying to steady her breathing, but the tension inside her refused to be tamed, every part of her straining toward Bette, aching to be filled.
It was unbearable, the way Bette just watched her—confident, in control—letting Tina’s desire twist and build, coiling tighter until it was almost painful. The pressure in her belly throbbed, her body clenching around nothing, the emptiness almost too much to take.
Bette didn’t rush the moment. Instead, she traced her fingers over Tina’s entrance, gathering the slickness there. Her fingertips moved in slow circles, spreading it along her girlfriend’s folds before pulling back. Then she brought her fingers to her lips, tasting Tina on her tongue. One hand still rested on Tina’s lower back to keep her steady as she leaned down and the blonde’s breath caught when she felt the head of the toy nudge against her entrance. Bette teased her, pressing in just enough to breach her, then pulled back.
“Oh God, Bette... p-please...please” Tina pleaded, the teasing torturous.
Bette hummed approvingly, running her hand down Tina’s side, soothing her. This time, she didn’t pull back. Instead, she pushed in slowly, letting the toy sink deeper, inch by inch, until Tina was fully stretched around it. The blonde moaned loud, her head dropping forward, her body arching to take more. The slickness from her own arousal made the glide effortless, and Bette groaned at the sight, her hands tightening on Tina’s hips as she adjusted her angle.
Bette stayed still for a moment, savoring the feeling of Tina clenching around her, before drawing back just enough to pull out halfway. Then she pushed back in, firmer, deeper, and Tina gasped, her body shuddering at the overwhelming fullness.
Bette’s voice was low, rough, dark with satisfaction as the word slipped from her lips, almost a growl.
“Fuck.”
Tina couldn’t form words, she was only able to let out breathy, desperate whimpers with every push. Bette kept her hands firm on her waist, guiding her movements.
Gradually, she increased her pace, the rhythmic sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, blending with Tina’s breathless moans.
One of Bette’s hands slid forward, tracing the curve of Tina’s waist, then dipped between her thighs, fingertips brushing over her clit. The touch was light at first, almost teasing. Tina’s whole body arched, rocking back instinctively, her movements driven by pure need. Her breaths were shallow, punctuated by soft, ragged moans, each one more desperate than the last.
But then Bette let her hand move up, sliding over Tina’s belly before slipping higher, fingers grazing the underside of Tina’s breast. She paused for a moment, her hand drifting upward, gently threading through Tina’s hair, her fingers brushing the soft strands in a tender, almost absent-minded caress. Then Bette gathered Tina’s hair into a makeshift ponytail, wrapping the strands loosely around her fist. She didn’t pull—just kept the strands loosely wrapped around her fist, holding them not to control Tina but to ground herself, as if the intensity of Tina writhing beneath her was almost too much to handle. But Tina wanted more.
“Pull,” she panted, her voice trembling, a plea threaded with need.
A wicked smile curving Bette’s lips as she tightened her grip, gathering the hair more firmly in her fist. She tugged Tina’s head back just enough to make her gasp, and at that exact moment, Bette pushed deeper, the dual sensation making Tina’s breath hitch, her body arching into the motion.
“Ah—f-fuck, baby,” Tina gasped.
Bette pulled a little harder, guiding Tina upright so she was kneeling, back pressed against Bette’s chest. The new position made Tina’s thighs quiver, the toy pressing deeper, and her hands flew to Bette’s thighs, nails digging in to anchor herself.
With Tina’s head tilted back, Bette took full advantage, biting gently at the curve of Tina’s neck, dragging her teeth over the flushed skin before soothing the spot with kisses. Tina couldn’t hold back the soft, needy sounds that only seemed to spur Bette on.
Bette’s lips traveled along Tina’s shoulder, tasting the salt of her skin, when she released Tina’s hair, only to reach around and grip her jaw, fingers pressing just firmly enough to tilt Tina’s face toward her.
“Look at me,” Bette whispered, her voice both commanding and tender. Tina’s eyes fluttered open, finding Bette’s dark, hungry gaze.
The connection was electric, and Bette didn’t waste a second—she captured Tina’s lips in a fierce, claiming kiss, their mouths moving together with a hunger that left Tina breathless. Bette’s tongue slid against hers, deep and possessive, and Tina moaned into her mouth, letting Bette take what she wanted.
Bette’s hand moved from Tina’s jaw to her throat, not squeezing, just holding, keeping her in place as she deepened the kiss. The other hand slipped back between Tina’s thighs, rubbing slow, firm circles over her clit while her hips had come to a stop of their rhythm. Tina was completely undone, still chasing the pressure, the fullness, desperate to be consumed.
Bette broke the kiss, her lips brushing Tina’s ear as she whispered, “Baby, are you going to come for me now?”
Tina nodded desperately, unable to find her voice, her entire body clenching around the toy. Bette didn’t give her time to breathe, she captured Tina’s mouth again, kissing her deep and unrestrained. Her tongue slid against Tina’s, possessive and thorough, as if claiming every gasp and moan as her own. The kiss shattered something inside Tina—every thought, every coherent feeling dissolved into pure, raw pleasure. And that was when Tina cried out against Bette’s lips, her voice high and unrestrained, hips jerking back as her orgasm tore through her, leaving her gasping, shaking, overwhelmed.
Bette didn’t let up—she held Tina steady, Bette breathing every cry, every whimper coming from her girlfriend’s lips. Her hand on Tina’s clit kept moving while the other on her throat loosened, shifting to cradle her jaw, keeping her close as she whispered against her lips, “That’s it, baby. Let me feel all of it.”
Tina’s moans softened, her body went slack, pliant in Bette’s arms. The tension finally broke, leaving weak, her head dropping back onto Bette’s shoulder.
The brunette eased the pressure, her hand moving to stroke her thigh gently, soothing her through the aftershocks. Her mouth brushed over Tina’s cheek, pressing soft, lingering kisses as Tina slowly came back down, her breathing still uneven, chest heaving.
When the blonde finally managed to open her eyes, her face was flushed, a dazed, blissful smile playing on her lips. Bette held her close, whispering soft praises against her temple, her fingers threading through Tina’s hair, grounding her in the soft, tender aftermath.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” Bette murmured, brushing a stray curl from Tina’s face, her own breathing still heavy. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss, her lips lingering as if reluctant to break the connection. Right after, Tina let out a contented sigh, her body melting into the mattress, completely spent. Bette followed, collapsing gently against Tina’s back, their bodies naturally aligning. Bette’s chest rose and fell in sync with Tina’s, their breaths gradually slowing. The weight of Bette’s body was so grounding that for a long moment, they didn’t move.
Eventually, Bette stirred, just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to Tina’s shoulder, her lips brushing the skin with tender care. She whispered something too quiet to hear, but the sentiment was evident in the way her mouth lingered, savoring the closeness. Carefully, she eased herself out, slow and gentle and Tina only whimpered slightly at the loss, too lost in the hazy warmth to fully process it.
As the lingering waves of pleasure faded, Tina let herself roll onto her back, utterly spent. Bette moved with her, reaching out, she brushed a few stray strands of hair from Tina’s face, tucking them behind her ear with a touch so tender it made Tina’s chest tighten with love.
Then without ceremony, Bette removed the harness, setting it aside on the floor before laying facing Tina, one arm draped possessively over her waist, her fingertips tracing lazy, soothing patterns on the smooth skin of her stomach.
Bette just smiled, that small, tender curve of her lips that always made Tina’s heart skip a beat. She leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to her temple, then relaxed, their foreheads almost touching.
“Hey,” Bette whispered, her voice soft, a little breathless.
Tina let out a small, sleepy hum, too content to find words. Bette brushed her knuckles along her jaw, her touch gentle.
“I’ve got you,” Bette murmured, her thumb brushing over Tina’s cheekbone. “You were so good, baby”
A faint smile curved Tina’s lips, and she shifted closer, wrapping her arms around Bette’s shoulders, pulling her in until their bodies were completely intertwined. They stayed that way, wrapped up in each other, the silence only broken by the soft rise and fall of their breathing, heartbeats slowly finding a calm, steady rhythm. Bette traced gentle patterns along Tina’s spine, fingertips brushing lightly over her bare skin, as if memorizing every curve, every inch.
Just when Tina thought they might drift into sleep, Bette’s voice broke the quiet. “So…?” Bette asked, lifting her head just enough to catch Tina’s face.
The blonde bit her lip, fighting a smile. “So, what?”
Bette raised a brow, the hint of a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You know what. You said it happened. I wanna know... when was it?”
Tina’s cheeks flushed. “Oh my God, Bette. It happened once and we were both... a little drunk.”
Bette’s eyes narrowed in thought, and then widened as a possibility dawned on her. “Oh... maybe it was that time at the resort in India?”
Tina shook her head, lips pressing together to hide a smile. Bette squinted, running through memories.
“Was it our fourth night together?”
Tina’s laughter bubbled up, quiet but genuine. “No.”
Bette’s smirk grew more mischievous, eyes glinting with curiosity. “Wait—don’t tell me it was… the time in the taxi?”
Tina’s face turned crimson, and she buried it against Bette’s shoulder, mumbling a muffled, “Goodnight, baby.”