Sunday Snog #148: The Late Show (F/F)

My snog today is from my F/F short story The Late Show, coming soon in Best Lesbian Erotica 2015. The kiss is barely there - but there's enough emotion in this excerpt, I think, to carry a snog.

When you're done here, click over to Victoria Blisse's Sunday Snog page and sample some of the other wonderful kisses on offer.

 

The powerful cycle whipped around the corner and raced through the shadowy streets. I hung on for dear life, my arms around Haley's waist, my chest pressed against her warm back. I tried to ignore the effects of her closeness. I shut out the quivering pleasure set up by the engine's vibrations between my splayed thighs. Enough sex tonight, I told myself. Enough.

I couldn't see much, but after five minutes I knew we were going in the wrong direction. For one thing, we were climbing.

“Hey!” I yelled. The wind whisked my voice away. “Where are you taking me?” I pounded my fists against Haley's back. She paid no attention whatsoever. She might have been made of granite.

When the engine died, I snatched off the helmet. “What do you think you're doing? You think this is funny?”

Haley shook her head. “Not funny at all, Di.” Something in her tone froze my indignation.

I looked around. “Broad Hill. I haven't been up here since...” The town stretched below us like a set of toys, glittering and unreal.

“Yeah. Me neither.” She stepped toward me.

“Haley, please...no.” When she gathered me into her arms, though, I didn't fight – not her at least. I only fought myself. Her kiss was gentle as mist.

“I'm leaving tomorrow, Di. Come with me.”

Oh God. Her scent. Her voice. The flow of hard muscle under her sun-bronzed skin.

“I can't. You know I can't. I have a child, Haley...”

Her hands wandered over my curves, waking pleasure everywhere they touched. “We're good together, Di. We always were.”

“Yes, but ...”

“You made the wrong choice last time. Not everyone gets a second chance. Choose me, baby. I swear I'll make you happy.”

She cupped my pubis through my skirt, waking echoes of orgasms, recent and remembered.

“You deserve this, Di, after all the shit he put you through.” With a simple tweak of my nipple, she rekindled the fever.

She was right. I deserved better. I'd had better and I'd thrown it away for social status and acceptability. I'd thought that Haley was just a fling. I was so, so wrong.