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“I got you a gift,” Paige says.
This is a confusing response to Azzi climbing into her lap moments earlier and asking, So what does the birthday girl want today?
She runs her hands over Paige’s shoulders. “Think you got it the wrong way ‘round, babe.”
“No I didn’t.” Paige grins and tilts her head up for a kiss. Azzi obliges, kisses her long and slow and sweet. “It’s in my bottom drawer,” Paige says, a little breathlessly, once they’ve pulled apart. “Wanna go get it?”
Azzi hums and thumbs away a smear of saliva at the corner of Paige’s mouth before sliding off her lap. She can feel Paige’s eyes on her ass as she pads over to the closet, so she rucks up her shirt casually for added impact.
“What is it?” The nondescript cardboard mailer box she carries back to the bed is smallish, and not particularly heavy. Shaking it didn’t reveal much except that there’s probably another box inside.
“Open it and see.” The undercurrent of excitement in Paige’s voice earns her a suspicious look. “Just open it, Az,” Paige repeats, tugging her down to sit side-saddle in her lap. There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes, which only increases Azzi’s sense of apprehension. She’s always been iffy on surprises.
Still, she does as asked, and— “Oh,” she says, taking in the flashy pink product packaging.
“Whatcha think? You mentioned it once, so I thought we could try it. Maybe tonight? At dinner? Or not, if you don’t wanna.” Her tone is light, but Paige gets fidgety and clingy when she’s nervous, and the way she’s stroking her hand up and down Azzi’s bare thigh is a bit too forceful for the motion to be truly idle.
Azzi examines the box in her hands more closely. The packaging advertises 7 vibration modes and 5 intensity levels of a wearable vibrator that’s Sleek, sexy, designed for ultimate clitoral stimulation and also Whisper quiet! Her cunt twitches just from reading the words. “So I just, like, put it in my underwear?”
“There’s a magnet, the reviews said it stays in place real good,” Paige explains, wrapping her arms around Azzi’s middle and pressing her cheek into her shoulder. “This one has a remote, see. There were bluetooth vibes too, but I dunno, I feel like having my phone out would ruin the—haha—vibe.”
“Well,” Azzi says consideringly after she’s done perusing the box, “we should test it out first. Make sure it’s really that quiet. Don’t want to alert the other diners with like, disembodied buzzing.”
Paige pulls back to look at her, eyes wide. “Wait, so you’re down to…?”
“Anything for my baby on her birthday.”
“No but like, forget that. Do you want to? Because it’s totally fine if you don’t, you know. We don’t gotta do this.”
Azzi sighs and caresses her sweet, considerate, overthinking girlfriend’s cheek gently. “Of course I want to, silly. This is so hot.”
The crease in Paige’s brow smoothens out. “Okay. Cool.”
“Don’t overthink it.”
“That’s my line.”
“Well, sometimes you need to hear it too.” She glances back down at the box. “I love that it’s pink.”
“They had a purple one too, but I thought you’d like this better,” Paige explains happily. She tightens her arms around Azzi and gives her a noisy smack on the cheek. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this for so long, it was driving me crazy.”
“How long?”
Paige shrugs. “Few weeks. This only came a couple days ago though. Took me ages to pick which one you’d like best.”
The prospect of Paige fantasizing for weeks about getting Azzi off in public with a remotely controlled vibrator is enough to get her hot if she dwells on it too long, but another more pressing issue comes to mind. She narrows her eyes. “A few weeks ago as in, during playoffs?”
“No—after. I was locked in, Az, you know I was.”
“As you should’ve been,” she says primly, trying not to laugh at the exasperated look on Paige’s face.
“It was hard though. You’re maddd distracting sometimes.” She slips her hand under the front of Azzi’s t-shirt, running her palm idly over her stomach.
“Mm, well, that’s entirely on you.”
Paige pouts, but doesn’t argue. She just clicks her tongue and slides her hand down to still over Azzi’s lower belly. Dropping a tiny kiss to Azzi’s clothed shoulder, she says casually, “You gonna be good for me today?”
The words send a shiver through Azzi’s body. It’s their little code for when they want to dial things up a notch, slip into a dynamic neither of them are particularly inclined to adopt 24/7 but which scratches that deep, insistent itch whenever it arises. The last time they did this was—well, just the week before actually, when she had Paige in tears at the brink of her fifth almost-orgasm, begging please Azzi please let me please—
She loves having Paige writhing needy and supplicant beneath her, thrills at knowing her power over her outwardly self-assured, unshakable girlfriend. Still, it’s the flipside of that dynamic that gives her just that little bit more, satisfies a deep craving that she’s only ever allowed one other person to see. She suspects Paige likes it better that way, too; it’s part of why they complement each other so well.
She tightens her grip on Paige’s forearm, the one connected to the hand lazily feeling her up. “Yeah, okay. I can be good.”
“That’s my girl,” Paige murmurs, satisfied, and the slow kiss she sucks into the side of Azzi’s neck turns her insides molten, heat pooling unhurried and potent in her core beneath Paige’s possessive hand.
***
The vibrator is a flat, curved device that fits innocuously in Azzi's palm. It currently sits snugly in her underwear, nestled up along her cunt with the textured tip positioned right over her clit.
She doesn’t actually know what it feels like turned on, because Paige had, outrageously, refused to let her try it out for its intended purpose. She’d instead had to watch in frustration as it buzzed (very discreetly, as advertised) in Paige’s hand while she fiddled with the remote control in the other, perusing the instruction sheet and contemplatively saying things like fuck that’s strong and well damn and okay but why would I need it to do that, in between throwing devious glances at Azzi.
“You’re so annoying,” Azzi had declared after about ten minutes of this, and escaped to the study so she could read in peace without being tormented by Paige’s insistence on “saving it for later” and point-blank refusal to get up to anything at all cute. Azzi has experienced seven straight years of Paige being insatiable, incorrigibly handsy, and not above sounding like a bratty toddler (“it’s my special day, so you gotta do what I want”) on her birthday, so it’s actually sick that she’s chosen today of all days to uncover within herself an unprecedented font of self-control that Azzi would frankly have appreciated on many other occasions…just not today. Not after Azzi’s pulled through an overstimulating past two weeks, packed with early birthday hang-outs and dinner celebrations with friends and family, on the promise of a day spent mostly tangled up together in bed, just the two of them.
“Sorry Az. I just want you all pent-up for tonight,” Paige had explained unapologetically, trailing after Azzi’s sulky exit. She’d looked frustratingly good leaning in the study doorway with her arms crossed, in sweats and glasses and hair falling loosely over her shoulders.
Azzi had considered telling her that permitting nothing beyond a little under-the-shirt action (and only above the waist, mind you!) was cruel, puritanical and frankly disrespectful to their going-on-7-year relationship, but ended up opting for a haughty glare—because sometimes silence spoke better than words. Paige had just raised an eyebrow, commented evenly, “Someone’s being bratty,” then turned around and left.
Azzi had stewed in indignation and arousal for about five minutes. Then she went back out to the living room to snuggle obediently into Paige’s side on the couch, and silently watch her play with the vibrator settings. At some point Paige squeezed her thigh and whispered “patience is a virtue,” which would have warranted an immediate smack any other day—Azzi had agreed to be good, however, so she only heaved an exaggerated sigh and offered her mouth up to be kissed.
Right now on the drive to the restaurant, Paige’s plan has come to fruition: they’re barely five minutes out of the house, and Azzi’s already trying very hard to resist the urge to squirm and grind into the seat for just a tiny bit of friction on her clit. She attempts to distract herself with other thoughts, but they keep scattering at the sensation of the hard body of the vibrator pressed between her cunt and the seat.
“You okay?” Paige reaches out to rest a hand on Azzi’s thigh, as she smoothly navigates the turn out of the slip lane one-handed. “You’re quiet.”
She’s nearly out of her damn mind in anticipation for the toy lined up against her cunt to turn out, actually.
“Just looking forward to dinner.” She squeezes Paige’s hand in an attempt to calm herself. Also, if Paige’s hand is in hers, and the other’s on the wheel, that means she’s not going to be able to operate the remote control. She doesn’t have a third hand, as far as Azzi is aware—her girlfriend is one of the best basketball handlers in the world and she achieves all that with the two hands of a regular human being. Where is that fucking remote, anyway?
Paige thumbs at the hem of her skorts. “I really like this on you.”
“You picked this outfit.” The skorts are the ones she wore to the Jordan dinner before the draft, the one that shows ‘miles and miles of leg, jesus’ (per Paige’s text that day, in response to the mirror selfie Azzi had sent her; her next text had been ‘fuck i wanna suck on your thighs so bad rn’). Paige has paired this with a long-sleeved crop top with a keyhole cut-out above the boobs, which Azzi had forgotten existed in her wardrobe.
“Exactly. I know what looks best on you.” Paige smirks at her and cuts her eyes exaggeratedly at her boobs, which the cut-out is doing amazing things for (the new bra she got specially for today is also contributing, but that’s a surprise Paige doesn’t know about yet).
“Eyes on the road,” Azzi says sternly.
Paige laughs and obeys, but slips her hand under the flap of the skirt and down the inside of Azzi’s thigh, dangerously close to her crotch where the vibrator lies dormant, for now. Her hand is warm, and Azzi instinctively squeezes her legs together to keep it there.
“Whatever you say, baby.”
She thinks she might be wet already. Even though nothing has actually happened yet. Fuck.
They park without mishap, and Paige comes round to the passenger door to help Azzi step out in her kitten heels. She looks mouth-wateringly dashing, in slouchy dark jeans and a plain white tee under a bomber jacket that makes her shoulders look especially broad. Her hair is scraped back into a low ponytail, and her eyes extra luminous from the mascara.
They walk to the restaurant hand-in-hand, Azzi too-conscious of the object nestled at the apex of her legs. She can’t tell if the remote is in either of Paige’s pockets—it has to be, right? She’s suddenly seized by the fear that the vibrator is going to somehow dislodge itself and clatter to the ground between her feet in front of the whole restaurant. Shuddering, she edges closer to Paige so their hips bump, more contact than she typically allows in public. Paige shoots her a questioning glance but doesn’t say anything, just releases her hand to slip her arm around her waist and pull her in close, stroking her thumb along the bare skin above her waistband. The faint snatches of her cologne, warm and spicy, are comfortingly familiar.
It’s cozy and bustling inside the dimly-lit restaurant, a familiar Frank Sinatra tune playing at low volume underneath the chatter, the space suffused with the toasty aroma of olive oil and garlic and fresh bread. As usual, heads turn when they pass. Azzi can never be certain if it’s because they've been recognised, or because they’re both unusually tall women, or if, according to a smug Paige, “it’s just ‘cus I got you on my arm—people be staring at what they can’t have.” Azzi thinks the latter reason unlikely, but it still makes her blush to consider, which was probably Paige’s aim to begin with. The hand on her waist slips lower, coming to rest on less hip and more ass.
They’re guided to a table in a more private corner of the restaurant and left to peruse the menu. This is a new spot for them, chosen by Azzi following Maddy’s effusive recommendation and considering Paige’s vague soft spot for Italian. Apart from the requirement that there’s decent wine, Paige generally has zero opinion on where they dine out; she often says with complete sincerity that she gets as much from watching Azzi enjoy a meal as Azzi does from the actual food, which is just one of many things that’s had Zaza shaking her head in disgust upon overhearing and groaning “get the fuck outta here P, you make all the rest of us look bad.”
“Whatchu thinking, Az?”
“Hmmm, the crab bisque linguine sounds amazing. But so does the prawn tagliatelle…oh, or maybe the roasted iberico? Arghhh. What are you getting?”
“Prolly the lamb.”
“Ooooh. That sounds so good. For the appetiser, can we get the octo—oh!” Her mind whites out for a split second at the shock of the vibrations suddenly pulsing through her cunt. She stiffens instinctively, abs clenching, and the movement unintentionally grinds the body of the vibrator into the seat and against her clit—all at once the vibrations become about ten times as intense, and she barely succeeds in choking down a squeak as her body convulses under the stimulation.
She snaps her head up from the menu to stare at Paige, who’s gazing at her innocently. “What were you saying?”
“Um,” Azzi manages after a few beats. Leaning back slightly makes the sensation less intense, but there’s no escaping the vibrations rumbling right over her clit.
“The appetiser?” Paige prompts.
“Paige.”
Paige holds her gaze, unfazed, a hint of a smile tugging up the corners of her lips. “Yes, Azzi?”
Azzi feels her cunt clench around a pulse of slick, and her cheeks warm. Okay. Okay. So this is how it’s going to be. She looks back down at the menu. It takes a few seconds for the words to stop swimming before her eyes. She swallows and says quietly, “The grilled octopus. Can we get that?”
“Course. And whatchu want for your main, again?”
“Just the, uh. I’ll get the tagliatelle.” Comparing the merits of each dish is the last thing on her mind right now.
“Kay.”
She coaches herself through slow inhales and exhales as Paige calls over a server and orders for them. The vibrations are far from the most intense she’s ever experienced now that the shock has worn off, a constant steady stimulation spread diffusely over her cunt, but the knowledge that they’re in a restaurant, in public, with another human being standing two feet away from her who might notice something at any moment, has her stomach seizing up with a kind of terrified thrill. Azzi can’t hear anything, but she’s never considered herself to have particularly good hearing, and what if the server has superhuman (or even just above average) auditory senses…? She glances surreptitiously at the neighbouring table. The couple to her left appear engrossed in conversation, but there’s no way to be sure that one of them hadn’t noticed her reaction earlier. And she and Paige are known; she can imagine the awful headline already, Dallas Wings Stars Azzi Fudd and Paige Bueckers Caught For Public Indecency—
“Azzi.”
She snaps her head back to focus on Paige.
“You good?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m—” She bites back a whimper when the intensity of the vibrations amps up substantially, fuck. Her eyes flutter shut as she battles the overpowering urge to rock her hips down into her chair. When she reopens them, Paige is lounging back in her chair and smirking at her.
“You seem kinda flustered, Az,” she says, faux-concerned.
As Paige’s girlfriend, it’s Azzi’s job to make sure Paige doesn’t get too cocky. Even on her birthday.
Azzi can be cool. Azzi isn’t that easy for her hot, confident girlfriend. Azzi’s had plenty of reps with sex toys of the battery-powered variety (typically wielded by aforementioned very sexy, effortlessly competent girlfriend).
She takes a few measured, slow breaths. With deliberate casualness, she leans forward (mistake—the tilt of her hips shifts more weight over the vibrator, pressing it harder into her clit—she somehow manages to maintain her composure through the spasms in her cunt and thighs) and crosses her arms on the edge of the table. She swallows to wet her throat. “I’m not flustered.”
“Your face is red, though.”
“No it’s not,” she rebuts instinctively, cheeks heating.
Paige looks like she’s holding back a laugh. “If you say so.”
“Shut up.”
“How wet are you right now?”
Azzi sucks in a sharp breath and rapidly scans the area around their table, panicked at the thought that a passing server or customer might have heard—Paige’s back is to the room, how the hell is she confident of just saying shit like that without even first checking that they’ve got privacy?!—but thankfully the coast is clear. And Paige’s voice was too low to carry to the neighbouring table, probably. Hopefully.
“Azzi. I asked you a question.”
She suppresses a shiver at the new hard edge in Paige’s tone. “I’m not gonna answer that right now.”
Paige raises her eyebrows, unimpressed. “I thought you promised to be good today.”
Azzi purses her lips.
“Didn’t you?”
Reluctantly, she nods.
“So? Tell me what you’re feeling.”
The vibrations are everywhere—in her cunt, her thighs, her stomach. Her whole body is one big fucking vibration. The spot between her legs is hot and wet, and only getting hotter and wetter by the second.
“It’s…it feels really, um, it feels good.” Duh.
“That it?”
She squirms, cheeks and cunt burning. “It’s really strong on my—” she lowers her voice, unreasonably terrified that someone is going to overhear, “—on my clit. But also, like, everywhere else, and it’s a lot and I’m—” she swallows hard, embarrassment hot in her throat, “I’m wet, I’m really wet.”
Paige’s eyes are hot like stars. “You want more?”
A tiny, helpless sound spills from her lips at the thought of more. For a wild moment she imagines coming right here in the middle of the crowded restaurant, but no, she wouldn’t—Paige wouldn’t—
Her train of thought is derailed when she spots their server, a somewhat nervous-looking young man, coming over. He presents a bottle of wine to them. “Excuse me, ladies—the Cabernet Sauvignon.”
Paige doesn’t even glance at him. She just nods perfunctorily to signal he can start filling their glasses, her eyes locked on Azzi as if there’s no one else in the room. This seems impolite, though, so Azzi tears her gaze away with difficulty to flash him a weak smile. “Thank you,” she says, as steadily as she can manage.
Paige is frowning when she turns back to her, and Azzi’s breath hitches at the clear displeasure in her expression. Her stomach tightens with foreboding. She doesn’t dare to look away. Her cunt leaks, as dark red liquid spills into wine glasses in the periphery of her vision.
The server retreats after politely bidding them to enjoy.
“He gone?”
It takes a moment to find her voice, which comes out as a thin rasp. “Yeah.”
The vibrations ramp up, catching her completely unawares. She doesn’t manage to fully stifle her cry as she claps her hands over her face and comes, waves of pleasure rushing through her cunt and thighs and core. Then the surge ebbs, and suddenly the vibrations become way too much, unpleasantly strong against oversensitized nerve endings—
“Paige,” she bites out desperately, “off, turn it off, jesus—”
“Oh shit, sorry.”
The vibrations stop. When she finally lowers her trembling hands, she’s greeted by Paige staring at her wide-eyed. “Did you just—”
“What the fuck,” she hisses, a spike of hysteria springing up through the aftershocks.
“Sorry, my finger slipped—”
“Your finger slipped?!”
“I mean, only sorta,” she backtracks hastily. “Didn’t mean to up it by that much, but—fuck. Azzi. I didn’t think you were gonna come. Just like that.”
The fire drains from her, leaving her feeling oddly exposed and vulnerable. Her cunt throbs faintly in the wake of her orgasm. “Warn me first, next time,” she says weakly, even though she knows that would defeat the purpose of the whole thing.
Paige blinks. “Oh. We’re already talking ‘bout next time?”
Azzi ignores this in favour of a sudden, more pressing realisation. “Just now, was that—was I loud?”
“Er…”
“Oh my god.”
“No one noticed,” Paige hurries to reassure her, “It’s noisy in here and no one’s paying us any attention, and anyway I can hardly see shit beyond five feet because of this, like, mood lighting—”
Azzi buries her face into her hands and lets out a shaky exhale, abruptly overwhelmed with intense embarrassment. She just came. In a restaurant. Within, like, five fucking minutes of sitting on a vibrator. And her panties are probably soaked through.
“Azzi. Azzi, baby.” Her voice is achingly gentle. “Hey, look at me.”
She does, slowly. Paige’s hands are extended across the table, and Azzi slides hers over automatically, mindful of the wine glasses. The touch is grounding, and almost at once the tightness in her throat begins to ease.
“It’s okay baby, don’t worry,” Paige murmurs, gentle and utterly in control, exuding that calm steadiness that always pulls Azzi back to herself whenever she gets too in her head. “I gotchu, yeah?” She rubs Azzi’s hands between hers in a soothing rhythm. “You’re doing so good, I gotchu.”
Gradually, all the tension and excitement accumulated since they left home—no, since the moment she put on the outfit Paige picked out for her and stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror with her throat dry, fully aware that she was dressed in precisely what turned Paige on, hidden beneath which was their lewd little secret, invisible to the rest of the world—bleeds from her body. She’s okay. Paige will take care of her, like she always does. It was silly to worry.
“Better?” Paige asks softly. There’s no judgment in her eyes, only warmth and concern. And love, always love.
Azzi nods, not quite trusting her voice yet.
“I’m sorry—was that too much?”
She shakes her head instinctively, then hesitates. “I mean, just a little, for a second. But I’m okay now.”
“You sure? Want me to come over there and hold you for a bit?” Paige’s tone is light, but she’s chewing on her lip guiltily.
She’d love a cuddle right now, but she doesn’t need it, which is what Paige is really asking. “I’m okay.”
“We don’t gotta continue this, if you wanna stop—”
“No,” Azzi says immediately. “No, I—I liked it. I don’t wanna stop.”
“I know it’s my birthday, but I’on really care about that. You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she interrupts. “I trust you.”
Paige’s expression twists for a moment before she gets it under control. She stares at Azzi for a long while, fighting back some uncontainable emotion. “Okay,” she exhales eventually. “Okay. God, you’re so—you’re perfect, Az. Fuck.”
Azzi says, a little shyly, “I wanna be good for you.”
Paige sighs, bringing Azzi’s hand to her mouth to kiss her knuckles one by one. “I know, baby. And you are—that was so fucking hot just now.”
“Really?” Her chest glows at the praise.
“Yeah.” She shakes her head, stares longingly at Azzi’s lips. “Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad.”
“You’ll have to wait till we’re home,” she dares, emboldened by the way Paige is looking at her like she’s hung the sun and the moon and the stars.
“Wanna make you come again.”
Azzi’s stomach clenches, heat blooming anew in her cunt. “Do it, then.”
“Oh, I will.”
Their appetizer is served: dainty discs of lightly charred octopus laid out over a layer of hummus, drizzled with olive oil and paprika. It’s delicious, exquisitely so, and to Azzi’s delight Paige is equally enthusiastic about the dish. She resolves to treat Maddy to several rounds of coffee as thanks for the recommendation.
Paige delves into recounting her call with Nika earlier. Azzi tries to listen and respond at suitable intervals, she really does, but as the conversation goes on it gets harder and harder to focus, her mind drifting restlessly to the keen awareness of the toy pressed against her clit, her anticipation mounting for when it’s going to turn on again.
“...told her she shouldn’t let nobody try her like that. Especially not someone who refuses to touch her on her period, I mean, what kind of…”
She’s hungry for it, Azzi realizes suddenly. She badly wants to get off again, a hot ache thrumming between her legs, but even more than that she longs for her release to come by Paige’s hand, for Paige to see and know exactly the hold she has over her. She wants Paige to know that she’s the only person in this world whom Azzi would ever let do to her what they’re doing tonight—
“Earth to Azzi. Earth to Azzi.” She’s startled back to the present, where Paige is wearing an amused look. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Of course,” she fibs.
“So what was I saying?”
“Um, the guy Nika’s seeing. He’s…an asshole who sucks?”
Paige’s lip twitches. “Well. I guess that more or less sums it up.”
“Told you I was listening.”
Paige snorts. “What’s the asshole’s name?”
“Ivan,” Azzi replies promptly.
“…You just got lucky.”
“No. I always pay attention to you.” This is not strictly true, but when one’s girlfriend of seven years is a consummate yapper, one develops (by necessity) an at least passable skill at keeping one ear open at all times while focusing on other more pressing matters. The pressing matter in this instance being the vibrator on her clit that’s decidedly not vibrating. Should she ask for it to be turned on?
“No you don’t,” Paige says affectionately. “You have that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“The look that means you want me to fuck you.”
Azzi nearly chokes on her sip of wine.
“Honestly Az, I didn’t think you’d be so eager to get off in public.”
“I’m not eager—” she breaks off with a gasp as the vibrator comes to life again, a low-level hum against the most sensitive part of her.
“Happy now, greedy girl?”
“Don’t say that,” she hisses, painfully turned on.
“Am I wrong?” When Azzi presses her lips together and doesn’t deign to respond, Paige laughs, a little meanly. “Guess I’ve discovered your exhibitionist tendencies.”
Her whole body lights up with embarrassment. “I do not have…” Paige mercilessly ups the intensity of the vibrations and Azzi whines, her whole body tensing in response.
“What was that, baby?” Paige asks dangerously.
“…Nothing.”
“That’s what I thought. You wanna pay attention to me now?”
She bites her lip and nods.
“Good.” The way Paige is looking at her right now, like she wants to devour her whole…if anyone catches them out tonight, it’s going to be her fault for sure.
Paige keeps the vibrator on through the rest of the meal. She switches up the intensity and setting at random intervals, so Azzi never gets too used to the sensation or expects what’s coming next. It keeps her agitated and intensely aroused, and she nearly comes again, twice—brought to the brink by the vibrator being amped up to the highest setting, then ripped back from it when the furious buzzing over her clit winds all the way down to frustratingly slow pulses mere moments before she tips over the edge. Both times Paige just looks at her, eyes molten and challenging, as if daring her to complain.
She doesn’t. She wants to cry in frustration, leap out of her skin, slip her hand under her waistband to finish the job herself, beg for relief—but she doesn’t.
Instead she eats her pasta (delicious, even lacking the wherewithal to fully appreciate it), giggles at Paige’s jokes, and somehow manages to enter a sort of zen headspace where she’s nearly unbothered by the fact that her cunt is on fire, and she’s wetter than she can ever remember being.
“You’re doing so good,” Paige praises as Azzi comes down from the edge a third time, quivering and whimpering quietly. Her clit feels like it’s about to fall off. “I’m so proud of you, babygirl.” The words calm the buzzing in her head, ease the tension in her limbs. Paige is proud of her. That’s all she needs right now: to be good, to be good for Paige. Anything else is immaterial.
They’re halfway through dessert when the low, rumbly vibrations over her clit ramp up to high speed all at once. Her fork jerks from her hand and clatters onto her plate.
“Clumsy,” Paige teases.
Azzi picks the fork back up with nerveless fingers, cuts out another sliver of tiramisu. Her trembling hand lifts the fork halfway up to her mouth, then lowers it. The buzzing over her clit is devastating, the muscles in her stomach and inner thighs clenching up painfully tight against the stimulation.
She’s so pent-up that she’s already close, cunt begging for relief that’s no doubt going to be denied at the last second. She closes her eyes in an attempt to steady herself, deep breaths in and out, but Paige says at once, “No. Eyes on me when you come.”
Her eyes fly open and she’s pinned by the intensity in Paige’s gaze. It’s that look of pure, single-minded focus she sometimes wears on the court, when she’s on a heater in clutch time, aggressively hunting her shot, driving the ball lightning-quick through traffic—no thoughts, all instinct. She never misses, when she gets like that. Always finds what she’s looking for.
Azzi comes silently, her entire world narrowing to Paige, only Paige, the wild desire blazing in her light, luminous eyes. Spots swim in her vision. The vibrations stop, and immediately she feels bereft.
Paige doesn’t break eye contact. “Eat up.”
Shaking, Azzi lifts her fork to her mouth and takes a bite. The velvety, bitter-sweet notes of espresso and Baileys burst richly on her tongue. She bites down into silky cream, juicy sponge. Swallows.
“Good girl.”
Everything in her melts, relaxes. She feels all slow and syrupy, cradled in the warmth of Paige’s approval like she’s soaking in a hot bath. It feels so good to be good.
Paige makes her finish the rest of the tiramisu, explaining that she needs the calories given the exertion of tonight. Her mind gradually clears as she eats, and she becomes aware of the dampness between her legs, growing more pressing and uncomfortable by the second.
“Paige. I’m gonna go to the washroom.”
“What for?”
She flushes. “I wanna clean up a bit. Think I’ve…” she trails off, embarrassed.
“What, baby.”
Face burning, she says in a rush, “I think I’ve soaked through my underwear. I just wanna check—”
“No.”
“What?”
Paige shrugs. “No.”
She blinks in disbelief. “I mean it, Paige. I’m really, I’m—I’m wet. I think I might’ve leaked through, I just wanna—”
“I said no,” Paige repeats, in a tone that brooks no argument and makes chagrin twist hotly in Azzi’s lower belly. She adds more kindly, “We’re almost done here anyway.”
“There’s still the drive home,” Azzi argues weakly, through the tightness in her throat.
“So? You made a mess, you sit in it.”
“You’re being mean,” Azzi says after a few seconds, voice breaking on the last word.
Paige leans forward over the table. “Azzi. I’m not letting anybody touch your pussy before I do. Not even you. So you’ll wait till we’re home.”
Azzi makes a helpless noise in the back of her throat. She feels small and desperate and overwhelmed, in the best possible way.
“Can you do that for me?”
She sniffles and nods, blinking wetly. “Yeah.”
“Dry your eyes, baby. I’ll get the bill.”
She hastily brushes away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand, as Paige waves over a server. Dallas Wings Star Paige Bueckers Makes Girlfriend and Teammate Azzi Fudd Cry Over Italian Restaurant Dinner is another headline she’d like to avoid.
Despite everything, Azzi still has the presence of mind for alarm bells to go off when the server arrives with the payment terminal and Paige pulls out her phone.
“Wait, stop,” Azzi begins, fumbling for her purse.
“I’ll get it.”
“Paige stop it, it’s your birth—” She grits her teeth hard when the vibrator jumps to life against her cunt, again.
“I’ll get it,” Paige repeats.
Azzi watches in dismay as the server meekly holds out the card reader for Paige to tap her phone against, probably cowed by the way she’s staring him down.
The vibrations aren’t slow, and all the overworked nerve endings in her cunt are flaring in a way that seesaws between pleasure and discomfort depending on how hard she breathes, it feels like, and it—it’s a lot. Through the fuzziness in her mind, she’s vaguely aware of Paige chatting to the server about their meal, amiable and relaxed like it’s any other regular night, like she isn’t the reason Azzi’s devoting all of her energy right now into maintaining a cordial smile on her face and trying extremely hard not to curl up into herself and start moaning. Or crying. Paige even makes a joke at some point—Azzi can’t be sure, isn’t paying attention to anything that’s being said, but she thinks she hears the server laugh.
Her legs feel like jelly when she finally stands. She clings to Paige’s hand and lets herself be led out of the restaurant, focusing on walking steadily as the vibrations continue relentlessly between her legs.
The enormity of the relief that sweeps through her the moment Paige shuts the car door behind her, sequestering her into privacy, is indescribable. She hunches over and shakes, letting escape the long, loud moan she’s been swallowing for over an hour. The constant stimulation has forced her through oversensitivity and she’s somehow—unbelievably—desperate to come again, but the vibrations aren’t strong enough to get her there. She needs more. Barely a second later she’s dazedly scanning the dimly-lit parking lot through the windscreen to make sure there’s no one else around, and slipping a hand between her legs.
The driver’s door swings open and Paige slides into the car. “Azzi,” she warns, right as Azzi presses the toy hard into her groin so it digs right into her clit—she cries out as the vibrations immediately intensify, throwing her head back into the headrest.
“No touching.” The door swings shut loudly. “Azzi,” Paige repeats dangerously.
Azzi rips her hand away and clenches it atop her thigh, breathing heavily and trying not to cry from the loss of pressure. “Please, Paige, I needa come so bad…”
“This not enough for you, baby?”
“No,” she gasps, “please let me touch, just need a bit—please—”
“I said no hands,” Paige says serenely. “And you promised to listen.
The words resonate tenderly in her chest. Azzi wants to be good; that’s kind of her thing in life. It’s not always easy, but with Paige it’s never truly hard. She tries her best to slow her breaths, calm herself down. Her release dances so close to the surface, the vibrations nearly intolerable but still not enough. She squeezes her eyes shut and feels tears streak hot down her cheeks.
“Poor thing,” Paige coos. “I’ll give you a lil bit more.”
The intensity dials up, a shock zipping through her cunt and up her spine. Her hips jolt, and that’s when she remembers that she can move—she spreads her knees and rocks her hips into the seat, and the movement grinds her clit right into the vibrator. It feels incredible, just what she needs, and without thinking she leans forward to brace her hands on the glove compartment for more leverage. It takes only a few seconds of grinding down before the tension in her body swells and explodes in intense, blinding pulses.
“Holy fuck, Az,” she hears distantly, through the roaring in her ears.
“Stop,” she pants, when the vibrations don’t let up through the aftershocks. She whimpers, twitching in discomfort as she shakily pushes herself back upright. “S’too much—turn it off,” she whines.
“One more, baby.”
“I can’t—it hurts, too much—” she babbles desperately, writhing as if that will give her any relief from the painful shocks buzzing through her sore, oversensitive clit. Her hands are twitching so badly to rip the vibrator away for relief, but Paige said no touching.
“Shh, just one more,” Paige murmurs, her soothing lilt of her voice at odds with the hunger blazing in her eyes. “I know you got another one in you.”
It takes less time than expected for the discomfort to morph into pleasure-pain, and then she’s coming again, sobbing. Paige turns the vibrator off immediately and reaches across the console to get her arms around Azzi, pulling her in close and kissing her face and murmuring, “Baby, baby, shh,” over and over. Azzi buries her head into Paige’s neck and cries, trembling and overwhelmed. “You’re okay, mm? You’re okay. You did so good Az, so good,” Paige murmurs into her ear, stroking her hair and back.
Azzi’s a little embarrassed when she eventually calms down, but the proud, fond look on Paige’s face as she dabs her cheeks dry with a tissue displaces all her abashment. “You alright, baby?”
Azzi nods, sniffling. She feels loose, and loved, and sated. “Just wanna go home.”
“Okay, babygirl. Let’s get you home.”
Paige doesn’t actually beat any red lights (or flashing ones), but the speed at which they reach home is probably ill-advised. Their hands lay clasped on the armrest between them throughout the drive. Azzi’s vaguely aware of the cooling wetness in her underwear, but she’s too blissed out and tired out to care. She lets her eyes slip shut, lulled into drowsiness by Paige’s thumb rubbing idly over the inside of her wrist.
The door of their apartment has barely closed behind them before Paige pins her to the wall, mouth landing on hers in a bruising kiss and hands roaming frenziedly all over her waist, hips, ass. Azzi melts into the contact, lets Paige lick into her mouth and suck on her tongue, dizzy with how good it feels to finally be touched like this.
Paige breaks the kiss with a wet noise and presses their foreheads together, panting into her mouth. When she pulls back, Azzi chases the movement, whining in protest, but Paige quiets her with a thumb to her bottom lip. She stills, breathing shallowly, warm breath gusting over the tip of her thumb, watches Paige study her with nothing short of reverence.
“You’re so beautiful,” Paige sighs. She leans in to press their mouths together again, this time so slow and sweet that Azzi’s chest aches. “You were so good for me just now. Think you can give me a bit more?” Azzi makes a soft sound of pleasure and nods fervently.
Paige wastes no time steering her into the bedroom, sinking down onto the bed and dragging Azzi in between her spread legs to mouth all over her bare stomach, breath hot on her skin. A full-body shudder runs through her when Paige pulls off her belly button piercing with a wet suck and tilts her chin up to gaze at Azzi through eyes heavy-lidded with desire. “Take off your clothes. Wanna see you.”
Azzi strips with trembling hands, hears Paige breath hitch when she realizes what she has on underneath. It’s a lavender lingerie set, all delicate lace and racy mesh, a far cry from the practical sports bras and bandeaus she usually favors. The panties cut high on her hips, and twin dainty bows sit on the string waistband over her hipbones. There’s a matching bow on the push-up bra, right in the middle of her cleavage.
“Fuck, Az,” Paige says tightly, eyes darting up and down her body like she doesn’t know where to look first. She draws an urgent circle in the air with her finger, and Azzi obliges with a slow 360, a thrill of victory running through her at the sound of Paige’s shaky exhale. She knows how she looks, the way her ass cheeks spill out generously from the skimpy fabric at the back. “You gonna do me in, baby,” Paige says hoarsely. “Fuck, look at you. C’mere.”
She climbs into Paige’s lap, straddling her thighs and giggling when Paige’s hands immediately find her ass, fingers kneading into the plush give of flesh as she dips her head to mouth hungrily over the top of her breasts. “You’re a fucking vision, Az,” Paige groans, nipping lightly. Azzi lets out a small squeak when Paige snaps the elastic of her waistband and fingers the bow on her hip. “Gift-wrapped yourself just for me?”
“Uh-huh.” She slings her arms around Paige’s neck. “Happy birthday. D’you like it?”
Paige drops her face between her tits again, groans, “The fuck do you think? I like it so much I almost don’t wanna take it off you.” She looks back up at Azzi, eyes hot and bright. “Wanna take a picture of you like this and frame it up. Wanna sear this image of you on the back of my eyelids.” She teases her fingertips along the waistband of her panties, then lower down over the mesh, inching dangerously close to her center. She taps lightly over the vibrator, which Azzi’s nearly forgotten about. “Had enough fun with this tonight?”
Azzi squirms at the memory of earlier, which already feels like a fevered blur. “I want—I want your fingers now. Please.”
“Thought so.” With a deft twist of her fingers Paige sets the little heart-shaped magnet holding the vibrator in place aside on the sheets, before tugging aside the crotch of Azzi’s panties to let the vibrator fall into her palm. The bright pink silicone body glistens wetly with the juices of four orgasms, but she barely has time to register this before Paige slips her whole hand between her legs to cup her mound, pressing her fingers into the soaked fabric right over her entrance. Azzi moans and rocks down into Paige’s hand, making her fingers dig into her folds and the heel of her palm press more firmly over her clit.
Paige rubs her hand slowly over her cunt. “Drooling from here for two whole hours…first time wearing this pretty thing and you done destroyed it already.”
“Paige,” Azzi whines, embarrassed and unbelievably turned on.
“Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours,” she whispers, shivering.
Paige pulls aside the damp fabric of her panties, and glides her fingers through her bare folds. Her touch is light, but Azzi’s so tender and sensitive from the abuse of the vibrator that even this gentle touch sets all the nerve endings in her cunt alight. She tenses her thighs to keep still, but can’t help wincing and letting out a soft, pained noise when Paige’s thumb brushes directly over her clit, instantly making it throb.
Paige senses her discomfort and stops, switching to rub her palm in soothing circles over her inner thigh instead. “Too much?”
She shakes her head, trying to catch her breath. “No, just—sensitive. Please don’t stop.”
“Mm. Let’s give your clit a break, I think. You’re all swollen down here.”
She keens, loud and desperate, when Paige slips two fingers inside her without warning and curls them forward. “Better like this?”
She moans, nodding desperately, putting an arch in her lower back to try to force her fingers deeper.
“You’re dripping, Az. Bet you could take my strap right now real easy, no lube.”
This wrenches a choked sound from her throat, and she clenches tight around Paige’s fingers slowly pumping and curling inside her.
“You want that, baby? Want me to fuck you?”
“Yes, god, Paige—”
“My baby’s got such a greedy little pussy. Came four times already, and she still wants?”
Her entire body flushes with humiliation, and she buries her face in Paige’s neck with a broken noise, overwhelmed and unable to meet her eyes. Paige lets her hide for a bit, lazily dipping her fingers in and out of her cunt, offering little stimulation but enough to keep her cunt quivering and her arousal steadily growing. “This pretty pussy’s all wet just for me, mm? Leaking so good to get fucked.” Azzi whines and shudders, nodding into her skin.
Eventually, she slides her fingers out, tugging the crotch of her panties back in place before wiping her fingers on Azzi’s thigh. She pats her lightly on the ass. “Go get the strap.”
Her legs feel like a baby deer’s, unsteady and trembling beneath her as she retrieves the harness and dildo from the bedside drawer holding their steadily-growing collection of toys. When she turns around Paige is already stepping out of her jeans, down to her sports bra and boxers. Her pulse starts to race at the sight of all that bared skin, the long plane of her abs, her well-muscled arms and thighs that are undoubtedly going to be pounding Azzi into the mattress later.
Paige tugs her bra off in one smooth motion, then strips off her boxers equally efficiently. Azzi doesn’t miss the thin string of slick that stretches between the apex of her thighs and the cotton before breaking off, and her breath stutters at the knowledge that Paige is wet for her too, that she’s this turned on just from making Azzi come and cry and come again.
“Az,” Paige says when she notices her dawdling, and Azzi hurries over with a start. Paige takes the strap from her, rewarding her with a brief kiss and a squeeze on the ass. “Good girl. Now take all this off.”
The way Paige steps into the harness with barely a pause, practiced fingers deftly adjusting and securing the straps around her waist and thighs, is hypnotizing. For a moment Azzi’s seized by a frantic urge to fall to her knees between Paige’s thighs and be good, let her have her way with her completely, callused fingers tugging on her curls and touching her all over, low voice telling her how much she loves her—
“Azzi. What did I say?”
“Sorry,” she mumbles, flustered. Her panties come off in a sticky pull, and the sight of the drenched fabric makes her ears burn.
When she straightens up, Paige is ready for her, dildo fitted into place. Her expression softens when looks at Azzi. “C’mere, baby.”
It never fails to get Azzi weak in the knees, how Paige always seems to know what she needs at any given moment, how she can so unabashedly take charge even when completely naked but for the cross resting in the hollow of her throat. She falls gratefully into Paige’s strong arms and lets her trail soft kisses along her jaw and down the line of her neck, her warm hands draw soothing strokes over her back and waist.
“My sweet girl,” Paige coos into her mouth, and Azzi sighs, parting her lips eagerly into the kiss. She barely notices when Paige unhooks her bra and coaxes the straps off her arms, drowning in how wonderful it feels to be held and coddled like this.
She finds herself straddling Paige’s lap again in the middle of the bed, loose-limbed and pliant. “That’s for my princess,” Paige murmurs when she finally detaches their lips. “You still want me to fuck you?”
She nods urgently.
“Words, baby.”
“I still want.”
Paige slides her hands down to Azzi’s ass and tugs her cheeks apart slightly. “Get me nice and wet, then.”
Azzi’s cunt throbs. She inches forward on her knees and lowers herself gingerly, so that the length of the strap nestles right between her folds. Whimpering at the contact, she braces her hands on Paige’s shoulders for support and starts moving up and down, coating the length of the dildo with her slick. She’s so wet that there’s barely any friction, the glide smooth as anything.
“Good girl, Az,” Paige breathes tightly, fingers tightening on her ass. “Just like that.”
She moans when the tip bumps up against her clit, and on her next slide down, she deliberately arches so that her clit rubs all along the length of the shaft.
Without warning, Paige slaps her hard on her left asscheek and she stills, whimpering at the lingering sting. “Did I say you could get off like this?”
“…No,” she says, voice very small.
“That’s what I thought. You done?”
Azzi looks down between their bodies, where the strap is glistening wetly with her arousal, as slick as it could ever be. She nods.
“Good. Now I want you to ride me until you come.”
Trembling, she grips the base of the dildo to position the tip at her entrance, pausing for only a second before sinking down in one smooth motion with a soft cry.
“Jesus, Az.”
She hides her face in Paige’s collarbone, whining and tensing at the sudden overwhelming pressure of the strap buried deep inside her.
Paige draws comforting circles over her back. “Why’d you take it all at once, huh? So impatient, baby. Shh.”
Once the roaring in her ears quietens, and her muscles start to relax around the sensation of being stretched open, she shakily pushes up to her knees and starts to move, grinding her hips in small circles.
Paige caresses her jaw to tip her head up, pushes her hair back from her face tenderly. Azzi wore her hair down tonight, curls loose and big, framing her face just the way Paige likes. “Eyes on me, beautiful. Wanna see your pretty face when you fuck yourself on me.”
Everything gets more intense when she does as told, gazing right into Paige’s heavy-lidded eyes. Her pupils are blown with arousal, the narrow rings of her irises a dangerous stormy blue.
“That’s it baby, take your pleasure.”
She speeds up her movements, using her knees to push herself up and down unsteadily, breaths hitching as she gradually gets into a rhythm, and she feels—god, so fucking full, Paige’s strap huge and deep inside her, filling an emptiness she didn’t even know was there before.
When Paige slips her thumb between Azzi’s gasping, parted lips, she takes it in mindlessly, sucking hungrily on the digit.
“Fuck, Az,” Paige groans, “you’re so perfect, my good girl, so good for me.”
The praise is dizzying, her mind floating half out of her body from the overwhelming fullness in her cunt and the cracked edge of desperation in Paige’s voice, the wild worshipful fervor in her eyes like she can’t believe Azzi is real. She’s practically bouncing in Paige’s lap now, moaning over the obscene squelches of the strap slipping in and out of her cunt, the wet slaps of her ass on Paige’s thighs.
“D’you hear that, babygirl? Your pussy’s so noisy.”
She lets out a broken sob, embarrassment flaring hot and sharp in her gut, but she doesn’t stop moving, her cunt tightening each time she bottoms out, noisily. Paige’s fingers splay over her waist, manoeuvring her hips into a filthy roll before letting her lift back up. The movement makes the strap grind up against her sensitive spot deep inside each time, delicious sparks of pleasure ricocheting through her cunt.
“You just love being filled like this, love when I’m stuffing you full?”
“Yes,” she moans, “Yes, yes—”
Paige slips two fingers into her alongside the dildo and Azzi convulses, the added stretch punching a thin wail from her throat. “Paige, too much, ‘s too much—”
“Shh, you can take it, I know my baby can take it.”
She sobs, babbling desperately, “I’m so full, I’m so, Paige,” as her hips stutter on a downward grind. Her whole body is molten, the incredible tightness in her cunt dwarfing all other sensations, and she feels entirely helpless against the furious bounce of her hips, the soft mewling noises ripped from her throat again and again.
The pressure builds and builds and builds, and the next time she bottoms out Paige swipes a finger hard over her swollen clit and murmurs, “You’re clenching so tight, baby, gonna come for me again?”
She comes violently, vision blacking out as all the muscles in her stomach and back and thighs seize up in rhythmic, endless shocks of pure pleasure; it goes on and on forever, her entire being transported to a whited-out plane of bliss.
She comes to dazed, to Paige shushing her and caressing her face. After a few seconds, Azzi realizes that the funny snuffling noises she’s hearing are coming from herself. She’s the one crying, breathless hitching sobs she can’t control.
“There you are,” Paige is murmuring as she thumbs away the tears on Azzi’s cheeks, her touch painfully gentle. “Come back to me, baby. Shh, it’s okay Az, I gotchu.”
She tries to speak, but the words fail to make their way from her brain to her lips; everything is oddly fuzzy, her mind moving slow as molasses. Her vision’s hazy with tears, but it still helps to look into Paige’s lovely light eyes, brimming pools of tenderness and affection that Azzi wouldn’t mind drowning in.
“You were so good, so perfect. Azzi. I love you so much. You’re my perfect girl.”
The words pierce through the fog, flip a switch in her brain. She shudders as sensation floods back into her limbs, bringing her to awareness of the ache pulsing through her entire body and the soreness in her cunt, still seated on and spasming weakly around Paige’s strap. “Oh,” she breathes shakily, when the last few minutes start to return to her.
“Shh baby, it’s okay, I love you.” Paige draws her into her body and cuddles her tight, making soft soothing noises like she’s calming a frightened animal. “I love you so much, you were so so good.”
The scent of Paige’s cologne is especially strong over her pulse point, and Azzi noses into the spot mindlessly as she cries.
“Let’s get you comfy, kay?” Paige coaxes her hips up so the strap pops out of her with a toe-curling glide. She whimpers at the emptiness, goes limp as a rag doll when Paige lays her down on her side and wraps her in her arms, peppering her face with soft, soothing kisses.
The adrenaline drains from her system eventually, leaving her weak-limbed and exhausted. It’s only when the fog in her mind clears that it occurs to her, “Did you come?”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, baby.”
Dismay floods through her. “But, no—that’s not...”
“I’m good,” Paige dismisses, pressing a reassuring kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Just wanna hold you now.”
“But I want you to feel good,” she whispers.
Paige laughs, overwhelmingly fond. “What d’you think all this was? Been dripping wet since dinner just from watching you.”
Azzi fumbles for the strap between their bodies, still secured to Paige’s hips. “You can fuck me. I know you like that.”
Paige’s breath hitches, but she stays firm. “You’re tired, baby.”
“You can do all the work this time.”
Paige snorts, dipping her fingers between Azzi’s legs and tracing through her slick folds. Azzi has to try very hard not to react to the touch. “You’re sensitive. Don’t wanna hurt you.”
“I can take it,” she insists, stroking her hand up and down the length of the strap—it’s still slippery with her slick, the fact of which makes her insides curl—firmly enough that Paige can surely feel the pull and give of the harness around her hips and thighs. “Paige,” she whines. “Wanna feel you inside again.”
Paige closes her eyes for a second, like she’s trying to get a hold of herself. “You still want more?”
“Yeah,” she breathes, feeling oddly emotional. Paige has been so good to her, so so so good, and she’s suddenly desperate to return the favor, her body stirring once again with the desire to see Paige shake and cry with her own release. Paige hisses, hips jerking, when Azzi slips her fingers underneath the panel of material holding the strap to graze over her clit. She feels just as wet as Azzi, her clit a hard swollen nub beneath her fingers. “Please—want you to fuck me for real.”
“What, just now wasn’t real enough for you?” The words are teasing but her voice is strained, her eyes glassy with arousal as she rocks her hips slowly into Azzi’s touch with a low moan.
“You know what I mean. You can use me. Wanna see you come when you do it.”
“You can’t just say shit like that, Az,” Paige says desperately, but she’s already pushing herself up.
Her eyes track Paige’s movements as she reaches for a pillow. “That means you gonna fuck me?”
“Can’t not, with you begging,” Paige says, voice tight like she’s just barely maintaining her composure. Azzi’s stomach swoops in anticipation. “Hips.” Paige slides the pillow under her hips and pushes her thighs up to her chest. “Hold ‘em here,” she orders, leaning back to adjust the harness so it sits lower between her legs.
The position has Azzi feeling exposed and vulnerable, and the feeling only intensifies when Paige draws back on her knees and just—stares, for long enough that Azzi has to fight the urge to squirm.
“What?” she asks, embarrassed. She doesn’t even want to imagine the mess between her legs right now.
Paige tears her gaze up to Azzi’s face. “You’re too good to me,” she says roughly, sounding oddly choked-up. She braces her hand on the back of Azzi’s thigh. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
She pushes in slowly, eyes flicking up and down like she’s torn between studying Azzi’s face and watching the silicone get swallowed up between her lips. Azzi whines, the stretch narrowly toeing the edge of too-much.
“Babe—baby, you okay?” Paige pants when the front of her hips are flush against Azzi’s ass.
Azzi nods, fumbling for Paige’s hand on her thigh to lace their fingers together. “Want you to come inside me.”
Paige groans and starts thrusting, immediate fast hard strokes in and out. Azzi moans, eyelids fluttering. It hurts a little, if she’s being honest, the glide not as smooth as before, the pressure in her cunt close to overwhelming given how sore she is by now. Still, the discomfort pales in comparison to how it feels to watch Paige fuck her.
Paige doesn’t enjoy penetration most days, meaning Azzi doesn’t have much experience at topping, but Paige has explained how much the exertion of it turns her on—the burn in her muscles, the challenge of figuring out the perfect angle and stroke and rhythm to make Azzi scream and cry and fall apart beneath her, the unrivaled satisfaction of getting it right.
The sight of Paige now is straight out of a wet dream—abs clenching as she undulates her hips, breathing heavily and moaning whenever the base of the strap slams right over her clit as she thrusts forward, her face red and sweat beading on her temples, eyes wild and liquid as she single-mindedly chases her release.
She’s so deep, the angle perfect for each thrust to hit right over the spot that sends shocks of pleasure-pain all the way up Azzi’s spine and wrenches helpless sharp cries from her lips.
“Az—Az,” Paige gasps, slowing down a little. God, she sounds wrecked. “I’m sorry, fuck, sorry—too much?”
She shakes her head in short sharp jerks. “No—no, it’s so good, keep going, I think—think I’m gonna come,” she realizes, in disbelief.
Paige swears, feverish rhythm faltering for a second. “Again?”
“Keep going,” Azzi begs, nearly delirious from the tightening in her stomach and thighs, unmistakable signs of yet another impending release. God, she feels each snap of Paige’s hips all the way up to her throat. “Please, just like that—yeah, oh god, oh god, babe, feels so good.”
“Fuck, Az—you’re so—fuck—are you close—”
She wails when her orgasm crashes over her unexpectedly, slow, full-bodied contractions rolling inexorably out from her core. “Paige,” she whines once she’s barely just crested the peak of her high, and forces her eyes back open in time to watch, lightheaded and breathless, as Paige grinds her hips deep one last time and comes, lips parting around a shout.
Paige collapses on top of her, and they lie like that for a while, trembling and recovering their breaths.
“Fuck,” Paige mumbles eventually into her chest.
Fuck, Azzi agrees. Caressing Paige’s head is as much as she can do at the moment, and she hopes it conveys the depth of her affection.
She winces when Paige pulls out, whimpering when Paige gently lowers her legs down from her shoulders. She’s barely able to close her thighs together from how sore her cunt is.
“Hurts?” At her nod, Paige lowers her head to peer between her legs in concern, fingers gentle on her inner thighs. Azzi doesn’t even have the energy to feel self-conscious. After a while of this, Paige kisses the inside of her thigh and says, “Gimme just a sec, okay? I’ll be back.”
Her entire body feels like jelly, all the strength sapped from her limbs and replaced by a deep, satisfying ache, like she’s just done a full body workout. Paige returns with an ice pack and washcloths, and gently dabs at the mess between her legs before wrapping the ice pack and pressing it to her cunt. She tenses, then sighs in relief as the numbing coolness slowly spreads into her oversensitive center.
“Better?”
“Better.” She does grabby hands. “Cuddle?”
“Course, baby.” Paige shucks off the strap, swipes perfunctorily between her own legs with a washcloth, then slides back into bed so Azzi can nuzzle into her embrace and rest her head on her chest.
Paige kisses the top of her head. “You were perfect today.”
Azzi makes a soft sound of pleasure and snuggles in closer, letting bliss wash over her. Paige’s arms are her favorite place to be in the world. “Why’d it feel like today was actually my birthday?” she mumbles around a yawn. Paige’s hand stroking over her hair—not to mention the exhaustion of multiple orgasms—is making her sleepy.
“Nah. Getting to spoil you’s the best birthday present.”
Azzi’s heart does a happy little flip when the words finally register through her drowsiness. “Wow. Zaza would one hundred percent clown you if she heard that.”
She tries not to giggle when Paige splutters, “Bro. I’m tryna be romantic and you just… Why you gotta ruin my post-coital glow like that.”
“Well, bro is ruining mine, so I guess we’re even.”
“You started it!”
“You didn’t have to continue.”
“Fine. My beautiful angel baby princess queen, prettiest baddest girlfriend in the world, love of my life. Happy?”
“You missed one.” She nips lightly over the skin close to Paige’s nipple.
“Ow—what? Sexy, darling, honey…”
“Wow…”
“Oh! Future wife?”
“…Glad you remembered.”
Paige’s chest rumbles in amusement beneath her head. “Damn, someone’s feeling herself today.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Azzi tilts her head up to glare at her, pouting.
“Nothing, nothing.”
“You’re trying to be funny? You’ve got me with an ice pack between my legs—” she lets out a yelp when Paige suddenly climbs on top of her with a playful growl, “—and you’re trying to be funny?”
“My bad, my bad,” Paige laughs into her mouth between kisses and Azzi’s giggles. “You’re getting that rock on your finger, don’t worry.”
“Who said I was worried?”
“Not me, that’s f’sure.”
She rolls her eyes and bats at Paige’s waist. “Well, I’m not worried. No one’s got it as good as I do.”
Paige pauses, her lips hovering an inch from Azzi’s. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Paige grins so wide all her teeth show, and her happiness makes Azzi’s heart swell. “Well, me neither. Or me too. Whatever it was you said.”
“Silly.” She pulls Paige down for a sloppy kiss. “Happy birthday. I love you so so so much.”
“Love you more, baby. Best birthday ever.”