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Lane had been eating her out for a solid hour when she stopped to remind Rory that she had to leave to play a gig tonight. “It’s just in town, Hep Alien is playing Luke’s. I’ll be home late tonight.”
Rory pouted. “But we’re here now, Lane.”
“It’s been on the Google Calendar, Ror. You knew I had to go.”
“I did know,” Rory admitted. “But I don’t want you to leave.”
Lane poked her. “I’ll miss you too, but I gotta go.”
“But I’m so close,” Rory whined. “Can’t you just stay?”
“No can do,” Lane shook her head. “Rory, we’ve been in this bed for four hours. I’ve personally had at least as many orgasms. Text Paris, she should be home soon.”
“Okay,” Rory dragged out the last letter for nearly twenty seconds, by which time Lane had already begun to get dressed. “Are you not going to shower, or at least wash your face? You’ll go smelling of me.”
“The boys can deal with it if they dare get close enough to notice,” Lane smirked. “And it’ll remind me of you the whole time to taste you like this. I’m going to miss you too, Ror. If you weren’t on bed rest…”
“But I am,” Rory sighed and waved as she left.
The room was lonely, too empty without Lane. Her lips tingled, soft as they had been when they had pressed their love to Lane’s skin. She pulled out her phone to text Paris, fumbling for the too-small keys. “Come over?” She sent, with a smiling face with a tongue. Crude, but effective. She’d learned quite the communication skills in her career as a journalist.
She smiled as a text came in from Lane. “My cheeks remember the feeling of your thighs, warm against their cool. Miss you, love you.”
“Love you,” Rory texted back.
She woke up to the door opening thirty minutes later.
“God, Rory, you didn’t even clean up. Powerful,” Paris crinkled her nose.
Rory couldn’t blame her, the air was thick with the smell of sex. “What’s the point?” She put on a coy voice instead.
Paris put both hands on her hips and sighed, “Rory.”
But she came over anyway and disrobed, folding her clothing neatly and laying it gently on a chair before crawling into bed at Rory’s feet. “You wouldn’t be stuck in bed all day if you weren’t overdoing it so much, you know.”
Rory huffed. “I know, but it’s hard actually lying down and doing nothing.”
“I see Lane found a way to make you do it,” Paris smirked. She ran cool hands up and down Rory’s thighs, tone softening. “But you need it. Let us help you get better, love.”
Her warmth touched Rory in all of the tender places in her, aching for Paris and the blazing heat of her care. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Alright.”
“C’mon, bet you can go again?” Paris lay her cheek on Rory’s thighs, breath ghosting over her.
“Please,” Rory whined.
“God, you’re so wet,” Paris marveled and got to work.