14
Hola, lover!”
Kat caught up with Izzy in two strides of her long, denim-clad legs and grabbed her shoulder like they were acting out a scene from a wacky eighties comedy. Izzy allowed herself to be steered towards the classroom. Her bag was caught awkwardly between them, forcing her bra strap to dig into her shoulder. She had worn a cute new bra—it was purple with pink edging, and the straps had flowers appliquéd on them—and she was quickly realising that, attractive as it was, it was not up to the strain of supporting her massive tits all day long.
“How are you, my lovely, lively Gingersnap?”
“You’re killing me, Smalls.” Izzy shifted until they were no longer plastered up against each other like they were trying to win the three-legged race. This was her last tutor session of the day, and she couldn’t wait to leg it home and throw off this frilly cage of oppression.
“Soz.” Kat grinned, unrepentant. “Anyway, we’re going for Lady Dancing, Take Two—wanna join us?”
She’d had a great time on Nineties Night, but nobody else wanted to go out dancing as much as she did, and it might be nice to just go where there was absolutely zero pressure to pull. Not that there was all that much pressure, but she always felt some weird obligation to let her freak flag fly. Going out with lesbians sounded like a lovely alternative.
“When’s that, then?”
“Tomorrow night, same place, in Vauxhall. It’s a tenner to get in, and the first hour the drinks are half off.”
“In.”
“Yesssssss! Get in! All right, I’ll meet you at the Tube, we can go together. Ladies’ night is the best. Maybe we’ll even convert you.”
“Ha. Nice one.”
Kat propped herself against the doorframe like a swooning hero. “Your loss.”
+
When she got home later that night, she called out, but the house really was empty. Dex must have been at the library, which she could never understand, because libraries were so much fucking pressure. She couldn’t get any work down what with trying to be totally quiet and getting glares every time she got up for a wee. No, thank you. Cafes were much more preferable if she was tired of her room.
Wasn’t Jonny meant to be home, though? Although he’d definitely been spending a lot of time hanging out with Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, so he was probably out with them. What about Nat? Izzy frowned and dropped her bag before making her way into the kitchen and putting the kettle on. She should probably work on her lit reading, but her brain was full. Maybe she’d just have a cuppa and watch some telly before jumping into it. A brain break. Those were meant to be good, right?
She was half an hour into Gogglebox when she heard the familiar rattle of keys in the lock and sat up, perking her ears to try and figure out who it was.
“Anybody home?”
Jonny! Oh, yay, she’d been hoping it would be him. “Hiya! Just in the living room.”
Thump of the door being shut, and Jonny peeked his head in and smiled. He looked a bit peaky, which had become too much of a familiar sight.
“Want a cuppa?” she asked. “I was about to get up and make myself another one. D’you have a lot of work to do, or can you hang out? What did you have today, anyway?”
Jonny took a bit to respond, which—
“Oh, right, soz, you just walked through the door. I’m doing the thing again, aren’t I?” She felt a bit like a puppy, but being in the house by herself always unnerved her. She lived with three other people. Surely being alone under those circumstances was unnatural.
“S’okay. Just lemme drop my bag and whatnot, and I’ll make us tea. I don’t feel like working.”
In a few minutes, he did in fact join her on the couch, with two cups steaming in his hands. “What’s on?” he asked, squinting at the telly.
“Gogglebox,” she told him. “Haven’t seen this episode before, but it’s a bit boring, to be honest.”
“I think I’ve seen it. It is boring.”
She muted the telly and turned so she could look at him properly. “How was your day?”
Jonny did his best to look nonchalant, but he was pretty transparent most of the time. “All right, I guess.”
“Mate, you don’t look all right, if I’m honest.”
He shrugged again, but this time it looked less nonchalant and more resigned.
“Is it your dad?” she asked carefully.
He took a sip of tea, then nodded. “He’s recovering, but I haven’t talked to either him or Mum since I’ve been back. I think they’re starting to catch on that Soph is telling me everything that’s happening, so she’s had to stop asking as much.”
Izzy made a disgusted noise. “Fuck them.”
“Iz.”
She pulled herself together. “Right. Sorry. I’m sorry. You just look so unhappy.” She set down her cup onto the coffee table and drew up her knees, facing him fully. He was avoiding eye contact.
Another shrug. “I know. I guess I’m not all unhappy. I mean, I really am sort of fine.”
Izzy fought her desire to help people along if they were struggling for words—something Dex has told her in the past could seem condescending or even infuriating—and waited for Jonny to continue. He scratched underneath his collar, and she saw a bruise that could only be a hickey.
“Hey, man, is that a love bite?” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but too late.
Jonny instantly colored and pulled his shirt tight around his throat. “What? No. What?”
“Oh my God, it so is!” She shot forward, about to pull the shirt back to see the whole thing—frankly, it looked impressive—but Jonny caught her wrist as he squealed and tried to bat her away with his free hand.
“Hey, hey, no touching! My love bite, not yours!”
“Definitely not mine, but who’s the lucky person bestowing hickeys on you? You’ve got to spill!”
Jonny looked positively shifty. “D’you mind if I don’t? It’s, like, really new, you know?” He sighed. “That all right?”
“You’re killing me!” Bah. “But yes, obviously. I am dying of curiosity here, but.” She raised her hands. “It’s your business.”
“Thank you.”
Izzy rocked back and forth a bit, literally biting her tongue. “But you do understand I’m dying to know and you are killing me, don’t you?”
Jonny did a full-on evil cackle. “That’s half the fun of being me.”
“Tchuh! You berk.”
“I do try.”
He never did, though. That was the thing of it—Jonny was just so fucking good. “Is it nice, though?” she asked.
He echoed her smile. Lovely Jonny. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
Izzy could feel her cheeks splitting with a grin. It was nice to see him smile like that. She’d get it out of him eventually, so she could wait for a bit. “Oh, guess what!”
“What?” he asked dutifully.
“I’m going out with my mate Kat tomorrow night, for a ladies’ dancing type of night.”
“Sounds awesome. What ladies?”
She shrugged. “All sorts, I think?”
“Is it gay ladies, Isabel?”
She shook her head slowly. “Well, yeah, but like, not just gay ladies. I don’t think Kat would have invited me if it was solely gay ladies, would she?”
Jonny made a how would I know? face.
“I guess we’ll see. You don’t suppose Steph would wanna go, do you?”
“Steph? Go dancing? More than once a year?”
“Oh, right.”
“Anyway, you don’t need us, right? You like Kat, don’t you?”
“I always need you,” she said with her hand over heart. “But yes, I’ll probs be fine.” She suddenly got a weird image of standing by the wall by herself while other girls danced all around her. “Right? But what if I’m awkward?”
“Are you serious?”
“What?”
“Iz, you’re, like, the person I think about when I think of people who can walk into any room and make ten friends from the word go.”
“What? No way!” She squirmed a bit in place. “Really?”
Jonny cracked up. “Oh my God, yes. You just go out there and you show those ladies how to have a good time, all right?”
“Yes, sir!” She took up her cup of tea lifted it in a salute. “Roger and all that.”
“Don’t know about the rogering—ladies only, right?”
It definitely look her a second. Then she mock-gasped. “Rude!”
Jonny giggled into his tea.
+
Izzy had never met any of Kat’s other friends—they’d never really socialised outside of coursework. But they all seemed friendly and nice enough, even if they abandoned Kat and Izzy outside the club because Kat was stalling. Then, a few moments later, a blue-haired little pixie appeared out of nowhere, and Izzy felt her eyes go wide. “Beth! What’re you doing here?”
Beth grinned and shrugged. “Kat asked me.”
Kat, in the meantime, had already sidled up to Beth and smacked her a kiss on the cheek. “Hiya, my little fairy.” Izzy watched as Beth flushed and gave her a flirty, slightly flustered look. All righty, then. That was an interesting development.
Beth turned her attention back to Izzy. “Anyway, I didn’t know you were into ladies.”
“’Mnot, just came out to dance, didn’t I?”
“Gonna drive all the girls mad with desire and leave them unsatisfied?” Her giggle undercut any meanness to the comment, but Izzy’s excitement drooped a bit anyway.
“Do you think that’s gonna happen? I didn’t—”
“Iz, I’m fucking with you. They don’t exactly check your queer ID at the door, I was just being an arse.”
Izzy felt her face flaming under ten pounds of foundation. “Okay.”
Kat groaned. “God, you’re adorable even when you’re embarrassed, which I never actually thought happened to you. C’mon, let’s get inside already.”
Beth gave Izzy an apologetic look and then seemed to forget about everything but Kat’s arm around her. Izzy braced herself for feeling like a total outsider, because if this actually did turn out to be, for all that Beth had protested, a Queer Ladies’ Night, as the flyer outside the club clearly stated—God, what the fuck was she doing here? What did Dex call straight people crashing queer events? Infiltrating? Something like that. Maybe not infiltrating, but she still didn’t feel too easy as she handed the bored-looking woman at the front of the queue a sweaty tenner and allowed her to stamp her hand.
Inside was utter chaos, and she immediately lost Kat and Beth. The bass of whatever song was playing pounded through her ribcage, which relaxed her. She could do this. She was here with mates, and she was here to dance.
First, though, she needed a drink.
The woman behind the bar was gorgeous, like the platonic ideal of a queer bartender. She had a butch type of haircut, a dirty blond quiff on top and short sides, tapering to shaved at the bottom of her skull. She looked older, maybe late thirties, and wore a ribbed vest, which served to accentuate her small chest, defined shoulders and arms, and the myriad tattoos wrapped around her skin. She had Nat’s build, a slim body that Izzy had always secretly envied even as she did her damn fucking best to love the build her mother had passed on to her.
The bartender nodded her chin in Izzy’s direction, and Izzy leaned and shouted her order. Whilst the drink was being prepared, she looked around, attempting to adjust to the dimness of the club. It wasn’t as full as she’d first thought, and it was wall-to-wall women. She realised it comforted her, and she began to relax, especially after getting her shot and downing it immediately. She shook out her hair, straightened her dress, and hit the dance floor.
+
Her feet ached in the best way imaginable. The DJ was incredible, playing jam after jam. Izzy was two cocktails in, and the sugar levels were off the chain. Cider sure never packed a punch like this. She felt a little fuzzy, but so fully alive. She never allowed herself to get plastered when out, anyway. She could count on her mates and everything, but what if they got separated, or her phone died, or something? She never ever wanted to be that girl. That girl never caught a break.
No, she wasn’t drunk. She was happy. She’d needed this. She did feel unbalanced. Not right. Something was niggling at her, but she couldn’t catch it.
Maybe it had been that stupid fight with Dex.
Maybe it had been the talk with Nick about her course.
Maybe she was just overthinking everything, which never ended well, and anyway, she never dwelled on the bad shit. Why was she doing it now?
Maybe that was why, when she was taking a quick rest against the wall, catching her breath, and saw a girl appear in front of her and beckon her for a dance with a tilt of her chin, Izzy went.
“What’s your name?” the girl shouted in her ear once they were bouncing up and down on the dance floor. Her breath was hot against Izzy’s skin and smelled beery.
“Izzy!”
“What?”
“Izzy! Like Isabel but, uh, shorter?”
The girl laughed and pulled back enough to catch Izzy’s eye. “I heard you the first time, love, just having a laugh.”
It should have annoyed her, and maybe it would have had a guy done it. But somehow it only made Izzy laugh. Flush and laugh, but she was probably pink all over from the dancing, so at least it wouldn’t be noticeable.
“What about you, then?” she shouted.
“I’m Ruby!”
Izzy thought that if they hadn’t been shouting, Ruby’s voice would have been husky. It had that edge to it. She had that edge to her, anyway. She was shorter than Izzy, just enough to probably be of a height when Izzy wasn’t wearing heels. With heels on, Izzy brushed the other side of six foot, which she loved more than most people, probably. She’d once cried on her mum’s shoulder that she felt like an elephant compared to all the other girls (and, what was worse, boys) in her class, and her mum had petted her head, then said, Isabel? Great Danes don’t produce chihuahuas. It had been so absurd, it had actually comforted.
She liked the way she towered over Ruby, because it didn’t feel as if she should be able to. Ruby was tall and lanky but had a presence about her. She felt bigger than her build. She, too, had tattoos. Was this a queer lady thing? Izzy would have to ask Nat later, because Nat had also already started on an arm sleeve, but Izzy had thought it was more of a Nat thing, not a lesbian thing. Ruby’s left arm was covered shoulder to midway through her forearm. Vines and sea monsters and things. It was cool. She had a lip piercing, an eyebrow piercing, and short black hair in a chunky haircut with fringe that periodically fell over her dark-lined eyes. In this light, it was impossible to tell what color they were, but regardless she was easily the coolest girl Izzy’d ever met.
That she had taken Izzy’s hand and led her to the dance floor felt heady to her, like it made her special by association. The way she was looking at Izzy. That was also nice. Beth’s dire warnings still rang in her ears, but Izzy was having too nice a time now to turn back. Anyway, Ruby didn’t seem like the sort of girl to cry over having wasted a dance or two on a straight girl. Ruby would be just fine.
“D’you want another drink?” Ruby asked as the song seamlessly bled into the next one, but Izzy shook her head no. No, she was riding an amazing, bubbly sort of buzz, and all she knew was that she wasn’t ready to leave the dance floor, nor did she want Ruby to leave her. Not yet.
Ruby stayed. The push and pull of the people around them forced them into each other’s proximity, causing Izzy’s breasts to brush against Ruby’s. She must have been wearing a sports bra because they barely moved when she danced, Izzy noticed, but they were, well. Very, very real breasts brushing her own, in a way that felt different to giving her girlfriends hugs. Ruby shifted, looked at Izzy from under her eyelashes, and wrapped her hands around Izzy’s waist.
Izzy caught her breath but let it happen. For a moment, she wasn’t sure whether the right thing to do would be to extricate herself and send a clear message or not. Do that.
Izzy did move, but not away. Instead, she used the push from behind her of other bodies as pretence to get closer, and it was like a series of snapshots she was looking at from the outside. One moment she could see Ruby’s face, the strobe lights glinting off her piercings; the next moment their legs tangled. Ruby’s face disappeared because they were too close to see each other. Izzy saw, more than felt, herself sliding her hands down until they were past Ruby’s narrow waist, until her fingers were brushing the slope of Ruby’s arse. She felt it flexing against her hands as they moved. Felt the sweat gathered between the places they touched.
Ruby shifted again, and her thigh moved against Izzy’s cunt.
Izzy rocked into it and gasped. She had been slowly getting turned on the whole time they’d been dancing, but avoiding thinking about it. Now it was impossible to avoid anything, as the ache between her legs grew, became a pulsating thing, that delicious, overwhelming prelude to sex.
Fuck. Fuck. What was she doing? What the fuck did she think she was playing at?
And then Ruby pulled back, caught Izzy’s gaze, and slowly leaned in.
Izzy let it happen as if she were watching a film. Watching it through a fog of want. This couldn’t be her, touching her lips to Ruby’s and allowing them to open? Surely it wasn’t Izzy allowing their breath to mix, sugar and hops mingling?
Then it became a blur. A blur of hot, overwhelming kissing and grinding. Dirty fucking grinding, and Izzy had never realised that two girls could grind as well as a guy and a girl. No cock, but Ruby knew what she was doing, and Izzy was losing her fucking mind. She was so turned on. She was so turned on. Ruby was steady and unrelenting. Izzy was aware of them rocking to the beat, but only peripherally, because most of her awareness had transferred downward. Ruby kept her close, so close Izzy was almost on her toes, hands like claws on Ruby’s arse. They were barely even kissing anymore, because Izzy couldn’t focus.
Christ, she was gonna come. She was gonna come whilst grinding on a girl on a dance floor in Vauxhall. What the actual bleeding fuck.
She was so close, too. God, she was. She couldn’t think.
She barely heard herself panting against Ruby’s open mouth, faster and faster, now totally lost to need, all of her brain cells scattered in the beat of the music. She needed Ruby to keep grinding them together, she needed to come so badly. All the blood rushed south, her cunt pulsating. She felt it expanding, that feeling of power as she got closer and closer. Without really understanding, she let her head drop forward and bit Ruby’s neck. It tasted of salt, of skin. She felt Ruby shudder against her.
“Fuck yeah,” Ruby whispered, somehow still able to make words. “God, you’re so fucking hot. You close?”
Izzy moaned. She was seconds away, and she chased it, that feeling of letting go. She shut her eyes and focused only on sensation. And then, on another thrust, she caught up with it. Maybe it caught up with her. She came, almost keening, as she shuddered and shook against Ruby. She spasmed against Ruby’s thigh, and she wanted more even as she didn’t think she could handle it. She wanted something inside her, something to come on. A sudden image of Ruby’s fingers in her cunt flashed in her mind. Izzy sucked on Ruby’s neck as she came and came and came and shut her mind from any further thought.
+
Her thighs burned. Her calves were killing her. Her knickers were an utter mess. But she barely felt any of it, because Ruby hadn’t given her any room for thought. Usually, postorgasm, Izzy was either focusing on her partner (which, in this case, she wasn’t sure how to do) or feeling vaguely uneasy about the type of porn that had got her off and hiding away the evidence.
This was a bit of an unknown, and she didn’t know what to feel. The sense of unease was there, sure, but so was Ruby, and Ruby was taking control yet again. Izzy had always enjoyed that with guys. She was pliable after coming, fizzy with endorphins, so when Ruby grabbed her hand and led her off the dance floor, weaving in between moving bodies and wafts of body smells, Izzy let her. She then let herself be steered towards a dark corner of the club, pushed against the wall, and kissed.
Kissed so, so fucking hard.
Izzy loved it. Loved the slow way in which Ruby kissed, like all she wanted in the world was to keep kissing Izzy. Loved how tough she looked, propped up with both hands on the wall on either side of Izzy’s face. Loved the feel of her tongue, tentative and barely there at first, then growing heavier, lovely and expert. Izzy found herself grabbing the edge of Ruby’s worn checked shirt and pulling her closer. Then she wrapped one of her thighs around Ruby’s hips. She was lanky, yeah, but she had hips. Izzy could feel them, pressed up against her thigh, the side of her knee. She definitely didn’t hate it. It wasn’t jarring, felt more like a revelation. Ruby’s breasts brushing her own as they kissed felt good, too.
Everything was feeling good. More than good. Izzy sweated against the wall as she rethought everything she’d ever known about her sexuality.
Got off with a girl on the dance floor: new discovery.
Continued to kiss said girl off the dance floor post–getting off: another new discovery.
Wanted to rip said girl’s clothes off and sink her fingers into her: utterly new development.
Whoa. That had been a thought and a half, but after a dissonant moment in her mind, Izzy felt settled into it. The truth of it. She did. She did want to do that. She bit Ruby’s lip, brought them closer together, and, as nonchalantly as she could manage, ran her hand over Ruby’s breasts. Deliberately touched another woman’s breasts in a sexual manner. Ruby breathed out and made a small, needy noise. Izzy’s cunt throbbed, an echo of previous dealings.
Well.
Add yet another new discovery: the feel of a girl’s nipple hardening against her palm was, apparently, divine.
She had more of an understanding, now, of boys’ ridiculous obsession with her breasts. Not that she didn’t enjoy a fondle or two or three, but some of them really had gone at them something ferocious as soon as she’d got her kit off.
Ruby broke off with an unexpected kiss to Izzy’s cheek. They rested there like that, Ruby’s thin, muscled arms still bracketing Izzy in, their cheeks against each other’s, bosoms literally heaving. This was unreal. Izzy was so turned on she could have come again with a single touch.
“God, you’re lovely,” Ruby murmured in Izzy’s ear. Izzy’s eyes shut of their own accord. Her head thumped against the wall.
“Fuck,” was about all she could manage.
Ruby leaned down and kissed the crook of Izzy’s neck. Izzy shivered, tilted her head to give her better access. Everything between them pulsed.
“Do you wanna go back to mine?”
This was her choice, then. End this madness now or see how far down the sexuality rabbit hole she actually went.
Well, that was an easy one.
“Where do you live, and are you a serial killer?”
Ruby laughed. Away from the throng of people, her voice was easier to pick out. Her laugh was throaty, deep. “Three streets down, and no. I’m a serial puller, though.”
Izzy pushed her back and gave her a look. Like. Seriously?
Ruby cracked up. “Too much? God, you’re adorable. I promise not to kill you, not literally. Can’t say we’ll avoid la petite mort.”
“Fuck, you’re ridiculous.”
Another laugh. “There’s a reason it’s feminine, though,” Ruby breathed.
Izzy shivered again; cleared her throat. “Lead on, then.”
+
The outside was cold, which had the unfortunate side effect of sobering Izzy right up. Which made her wonder if she should be fucking off home instead of heading into Ruby’s Den of Pulling to make another notch on her Lesbian Sex Bedpost or whatever.
Ruby must have sensed this, because she twisted them around until they were almost toppling off the kerb and kissed Izzy senseless. Then she slid one hand in between them, right over where Izzy’s dress clung to her hips and thighs and—
All right, all right, she was not about to change her mind. She attempted to communicate this to Ruby with her mouth and hands, but then they were just outright snogging on the asphalt and giggly voices were calling out, “Oy, get a bloody room, you two, honestly!”
That was when she remembered she had come here with a friend and had promptly lost her in the shuffle.
“Fuck, hang on.”
She pushed Ruby gently away and then shook her head at Ruby’s questioning gaze. Out here in the street light, she saw that Ruby’s skin was quite a bit darker than hers, and her eyes were a light golden brown. She was gorgeous. “Got to tell my mate I’m leaving or she’ll worry. You know, girl code.”
“I live on Randall Row, and my full name is Ruby Lee Weston. You know. Just in case.” She leered. Somehow, it did not look stupid on her.
Izzy laughed as she fished out her phone from her bra and wiped as much of the sweat from it as she could before attempting to text. Then she shoved it back against her left boob, patted the right one for her keys and money—all accounted for—and said, “All right. Take me to your lair.”
Ruby grabbed her hand.
+
“My flatmates aren’t home,” Ruby told her as she grabbed her keys from her pockets. Her trousers had a billion of them—she must have shopped in the men’s section. They looked good on her. Izzy could never have pulled that off in a million years. “So you can be loud.” Ruby threw her a look over her shoulder, and Izzy shivered. Actually bloody shivered, because she was about to shag a girl and probably be completely fucking destroyed by her. Ruby had that look about her. I have satisfied countless women, and you are about to be added to my list of victories. Unlike with some of the guys she’d shagged, Izzy didn’t feel dirty at being on the receiving end of such a look. Maybe not dirty, but lessened, somehow. With Ruby, it felt the opposite.
They fell through the door. The flat was dark, and Izzy just heard the dull clanging of keys hitting the floor before Ruby was grabbing her by the back of her hips and leading her into further darkness. She felt something brush against her calf and yelped.
“Oh, sorry, that’s my cat. He’s probably pissed off we woke him up.”
Her voice really was husky. Izzy got lost in her head imagining what Ruby would sound like when coming.
Ruby changed trajectories and led her through a doorway. She switched on a lamp, and Izzy fought the desperate desire to run into the bathroom and check to see what she actually looked like, since it was probably terrifying. She only ever used waterproof eyeliner and mascara to go out dancing—a girl had to be smart about these things—but that didn’t mean they always survived the night. She cast a quick glance over at Ruby to see what she really looked like.
She wasn’t wearing makeup, for one. She had pink cheeks and was dusky all over. Her hair was messy, but it was meant to be messy. Her black cargo trousers sat low enough on her hips that when she turned towards Izzy and ripped her shirt off right over her head, Izzy saw two inches of underwear. And yeah, that had been a sports bra. Her tattoos weren’t just on her arm. She had a vine snaking around her torso, a thick line with leaves and tendrils and things. It was beautiful, and it moved every time Ruby took a breath.
Izzy stood there, rooted to the floor, as Ruby strode over to her in two seconds and said, “C’mere, gorgeous.”
Izzy hated how self-conscious she felt all of a sudden and decided, fuck that. Ruby had called her gorgeous, and anyway, Izzy knew she looked good. Apart from whatever was happening on her face, she had never had any complaints. And if she had, the complainers had quickly been booted out the door, because she had no time for that nonsense.
Her heart fluttered as Ruby kissed her, and her stomach churned. It was just—it was real. And so physical. Kissing a girl, a girl with her shirt off no less, if she’d ever imagined such a thing, she couldn’t have imagined actually going through with it.
Also, she had no idea what she was doing. It was one thing to picture it happening in media res, it was another to have to work at getting there.
But Ruby, it seemed, was a pro. She pushed Izzy back a few steps until she hit the bed and then gently pushed her down. Izzy wound up sat with her legs apart and Ruby in between them. The smell of sex grew sharp, and Izzy forced herself not to squirm. When she looked at Ruby, Ruby’s eyes were ten shades darker. Holding her gaze, Ruby dropped down to her knees.
Izzy leaned in and kissed her, because that part had been going well enough, and she had no idea what to do next.
They snogged for about five seconds, then Ruby pulled away. She ran her hands up Izzy’s legs. Izzy was wearing tights and boots, but she went utterly still as Ruby’s wandering hands found her thighs and sneaked underneath the hem of her dress.
“Can we get you out of these?” Ruby’s voice was low, God, so low.
Izzy swallowed and nodded. She felt the texture of Ruby’s duvet under hands, didn’t know if she should be helping or what. Ruby gave her a crooked smile, then deliberately lifted Izzy’s right leg. She unzipped her boot. “If only it was warmer,” Ruby said like it was no big deal, “I’d be able to just hike up your dress.”
Izzy breathed in sharply, barely felt it when Ruby slid her boots off. Her feet throbbed. A good sort of throb. She flexed her toes.
“But these are in the way,” Ruby murmured. She ran her hands up the sides of Izzy’s legs. “I think you’d best do this part.”
Oh God. Izzy hadn’t been planning on pulling, but she had wanted to look good, so she’d worn her tightest pair of tights, and getting out of them was a nightmare at any point, much less when you were attempting to be sexy about it.
“You should probably turn around,” she said. “It’s not a pretty sight.”
“Yeah it is.” Ruby watched her. The whole time.
Izzy bore it. At first, as her hands went up underneath her dress and she had to roll the whole business down over her belly, she couldn’t make herself look at Ruby. All she could focus her energies on was getting the damn tights off past her arse and hips. What was Ruby seeing?
God, probably everything.
Izzy rolled the tights down, and then it got easier midthigh and she was about to roll them all the way off when Ruby grabbed her wrist and said, “Wait. Leave them like that.”
What the ever-loving fuck?
“I’m not being funny, I promise, it’s just super hot.”
Unconvinced, Izzy went still, until Ruby cracked up and pulled her back in. Izzy’s arse hit the bed. Thank God she’d worn cute knickers and had actually cleaned up her bikini line, she thought crazily. Her legs—still connected by the fucking tights, no less—were dangling from Ruby’s bed. Ruby, having moved in between her legs, was licking up her thigh.
Izzy groaned.
Her dress was sweltering, she wanted it off, but she was not in control of this situation. She was, in fact, very much unable to do anything but watch as Ruby held herself up on her arms. It was hot, and her shoulder muscles shifted in the light. A trail of heat was making its way to the top of Izzy’s inner thigh.
Fuuuuuuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. She’d thought: maybe fingers. Even a dildo? She hadn’t been expecting this.
“Fuck, you smell good.”
God, that low voice. Izzy hid her face in her hands. The heat between them was unbearable. She was so wet.
“Lift up,” Ruby commanded, and Izzy, with zero input from her brain, did. “Love the frills,” Ruby murmured. She slid Izzy’s panties right off her hips. Izzy couldn’t watch. She felt exposed. Not in a bad way. Just in that way where she was going to explode from the intensity of it all.
Ruby slipped her powder-blue knickers down until they hit her tights. Twice trapped, now. Izzy longed to raise her knees so she could at least feel like she was about to get fucked. This was such an awkward, strange position to be in, but when she finally found the courage to look, Ruby was staring at her like she’d never seen anything better in her whole life.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful.” She rucked the hem of Izzy’s dress up, and now her whole belly was on display, too. Her bra was digging in everywhere and she wanted it off, desperately, wanted everything off. “Gorgeous fucking ginger.” Ruby whispered.
Izzy actually whimpered. “I can’t. The tights, please.”
Ruby was quick about it. She grabbed the tights and panties in a single handful and tugged until Izzy’s heel was stuck, then tugged harder, and Izzy was free. Legs akimbo, sweating onto Ruby’s duvet, throbbing, with a beautiful woman in between her legs, ready to blow her mind.
Izzy grinned. She grabbed Ruby’s hips with both legs and pulled her in until they were face to face. This courage was new, and she was fairly certain it wasn’t courage as much as it was lust flowing like lava through her veins, but whatever it was, it was working. Ruby kissed her, open-mouthed, tongue first. Izzy moaned into it while mad thoughts like Maybe I’m a full-on lesbian now and Wonder who will wind up on top swirled in her brain.
“Gonna eat you out so good,” Ruby murmured, and all thought broke off. She leaned down, and Izzy could only watch as Ruby licked her way into her cleavage. Her eyelashes were dark and full, leaving pretty shadows on her flushed cheeks. She looked so intent, so into it. Izzy brought her hands up and ran her fingers through Ruby’s messy hair, hoping that was something she was into. Like a cat, she leaned into the touch.
All right. That was good.
Spurred on, Izzy slipped her hands farther down until she was pushing Ruby in the right trajectory by her shoulders. She felt Ruby laugh against her skin. Her dress wasn’t exactly modest, but still, she wanted it completely off. Wanted everything. Wanted to keep her bra on so Ruby could admire her cleavage, wanted it off so Ruby could play with her tits. She felt powerful now, powerful and so fucking sexy. She basked in this place of utter goodness.
“Help me get my dress off if you’re going to be a tease about it.”
Ruby broke off, and when their gazes met, her eyes looked completely blown. God, that was so hot. Together, they managed to wiggle Izzy out of her dress, and it barely hit the floor before Ruby was attempting to rid her of her bra, too.
Izzy grabbed her hands and pushed them away. They’d be here forever if she didn’t just do this part herself, or at least that had always been the case with boys. Of course, Ruby probably had quite a bit of expertise in this department, but Izzy made her watch as she unhooked the clasp herself. As she tugged the straps off her shoulders, her tits spilt immediately to the sides, as they always did, the buggers.
Ruby said, “Oh, fucking hell, those are glorious.” Izzy gathered them up for her, her face aflame, and Ruby bit the undersides, one by one, then licked a trail all the way up. Izzy was so busy with how good that felt that she hadn’t registered Ruby’s shifting positions, not until she felt two fingers slip against her cunt and find the seam, and then gasped just as Ruby slipped both fingers inside her. “God, you are so fucking wet,” Ruby murmured. Izzy wanted to clasp her knees together and keep Ruby’s fingers inside her, but Ruby was in between them. She humped her hand, shuddering. Good God, she was going to come again, just like that.
She turned her face away from Ruby’s, too far gone, and moaned. Ruby slid down. Her hand slipped out, and Izzy gasped, desperate, going mad missing Ruby’s fingers. She was sort of fluttery and also completely on fire and she bit her hand—she hadn’t even realised she’d shoved it against her mouth—as Ruby spread her legs more and licked her.
Fuck fuck fuck, fuck. Izzy cried out, bore down. She wanted—she wanted. She wanted to trap Ruby’s face with her thighs, she wanted to hump her face, she wanted to come so, so badly. Ruby made a noise and it reverberated through Izzy, a shudder down to her bones. She grabbed the duvet with both hands and groaned. “God. God.”
Ruby was relentless, finding Izzy’s clit effortlessly. God, she knew what she was doing. Most of the time if Izzy came from oral, it was because she’d been so worked up before that it was sort of inevitable. She could tell that Ruby could get her there at any time. If Ruby were to suddenly turn up in Script Writing, crawl under a desk in front of everyone, and go down on Izzy, she’d have her coming within moments. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
She actually cried out when Ruby slipped three fingers inside her and pressed up. Izzy got embarrassingly loud and everything swelled, was slick and felt so good. She came the next moment, so hard she nearly whited out, and Ruby God bless her didn’t stop. Izzy’s orgasm rolled through her as she shuddered around Ruby’s fingers and rocked against her tongue, her skin sparking like a live wire, until she was hoarse from crying.
Ruby gave her one last lick after the last of the spasms subsided and slipped her fingers out. Her chin and mouth when she lifted up were wet, and her expression was smug as fuck. Izzy looked at her for a second, then fell back against the duvet and laughed. Her head was spinning. She throbbed, sore in the best way.
“Good, yeah?” Ruby was definitely smug. Izzy pawed until she found her bra strap and made a weak attempt at pulling her up. She had only the smallest of hesitations the moment before they kissed. Most guys she’d been with had, like, wiped their mouths after oral, but it was as if Ruby didn’t care. She seemed to revel in it, and it turned out Izzy liked it. Loved it, in fact. Her own taste on Ruby’s tongue. She hummed. Kissing after coming was always a sloppy affair for her. She was still not in total control.
Then Ruby pulled away, sat up, and slipped her bra off over her head. Izzy stared at her hard, dark nipples, the way they made her small boobs perky and sensual. Unapologetically sexy. Truthfully, Izzy had always admired boobs—she had just always thought it had been mere aesthetics. A friend of hers back in school had once referred to them as useless flesh bags, and Izzy had thought, What an odd way to refer to something so beautiful.
Ruby slipped off the bed and tugged down her trousers. She was wearing men’s boxer briefs, red with white trim around the waist and legs. Izzy swallowed, looked her fill. Light hair dusted Ruby’s thighs, becoming darker past her knees. Izzy decided she liked it.
She reached for Ruby. Ruby came easily.
When she woke up in the morning, the sun was just barely making itself known through the crooked blinds. Her head pounded, and her mouth was filled with cobwebs. Then she felt someone shift behind her and froze.
Right. Ruby. A girl. The girl she’d had sex with. A girl who was now totally naked, spooned up behind her.
Through the fog of her brain, Izzy attempted feeling appalled. Or at least displeased.
She couldn’t. Instead of condemnations, her brain was sending her image after image from the night before. The one she remembered best was looking at Ruby’s face as she reached down between Ruby’s legs and found the wetness inside. It had felt both familiar and not, and it had been strange, but Ruby had gasped and let her head fall back, and Izzy had felt a surge of power so overwhelming her head had spun. It was like touching hot, slick silk.
Ruby had been gorgeous when she’d finally come. Flushed down to her breasts, hair matted, eyes blown, nipples dark and pointed. They’d fit so well in Izzy’s mouth.
They’d sort of done the hook-up-fall-asleep-wake-up-do-it-again-fall-asleep, rinse, repeat thing for hours. She was sore absolutely everywhere. She was pretty sure her tits were going to be covered in bruises.
What now? Did Ruby expect her to slip out or stay for brekkie and conversation? Either choice felt odd and uncomfortable.
She felt odd and uncomfortable. Not bad, not really. Just like she needed a long soak in a bath and about a thousand hours to think things through.
Actually, she needed to talk to Dex. Maybe to Nat, too. Definitely to Nat. Probably.
Maybe.
Oh, crap. She remembered they were all meeting at the café for breakfast in—she squinted at Ruby’s bedside clock—an hour and a half.
She lay there, utterly still, waiting for Ruby to wake up, and tried her best not to think.