Love Me

Everyone thinks you’re just friends. They see the way she leans in close when you laugh, the casual touches, the shared glances. They assume it’s harmless fun. That you’re two girls who click really well. They have no idea how wrong they are. Because the truth lives in stolen moments like this.

The bar bathroom is small and dimly lit, the bass from the music outside vibrating through the walls. She followed you in under the excuse of “fixing your hair,” but the second the door locked, she had you pressed against the sink, mouth on yours like she’d been starving for it all night.

Her tongue slides against yours, deep and filthy, while her hand slips under your dress. Two fingers push inside you without warning, curling instantly against that spot that makes your knees weak. You moan into her mouth, gripping her shoulders as she fucks you with steady, practiced strokes.

“Third time today,” she murmurs against your lips, smirking. “You’re such a greedy little thing for me, aren’t you?” You can barely answer. Your head falls back as she adds a third finger, stretching you open while her thumb circles your clit. She kisses down your neck, sucking lightly, careful not to leave marks where people might see.

“Come on, baby,” she whispers, voice low and sweet. “Let me feel you. I want you to soak my hand again.” You come hard, biting down on her shoulder to stay quiet, thighs shaking around her wrist. She works you through it, murmuring soft praises against your ear until your breathing evens out.

She pulls her fingers out slowly, brings them to her mouth, and licks them clean while holding your gaze. Then she kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on her lips. She fixes your dress with gentle hands, adjusts your hair for you, and smiles like she didn’t just ruin you in a public bathroom.

“Ready to go back out there?” she asks, voice innocent. You nod, legs still shaky. No one outside has any idea what just happened. And that’s exactly how you both like it.