Young Love: Part Two

They woke up tangled together, bare skin still glowing from the night. Iris kissed the inside of Jojo’s wrist, then let her mouth linger. The phone broke the spell. Iris answered; her mother’s voice snapped like a belt. Where are you, come home now. Iris pressed the phone harder to her ear and told the truth in one breath: she was in love with a woman, and if that meant no home at all, she’d live with it. The line went dead. Panic clawed up her throat. Jojo didn’t ask; she grabbed the overnight bag, swung it onto the bed, and said, “Pack light. We leave now.” A small scream of laughter broke from Iris, then another. Jojo caught her mouth mid-laugh, pushed her backward onto the pillows, and spread her thighs. She bent low, breath hot, and dragged the flat of her tongue slow and heavy across Iris’s cunt until it glistened. Iris’s hips jumped; her fingers locked in Jojo’s hair. “More.” Jojo gave it. She climbed over the headboard and straddled Iris’s thigh, bringing their slick pussies together with a wet, solid press. They rocked hard. Skin slapped. Nails dragged down, pinching tight nipples until the buds stood dark and stinging. Their hands found each other, fingers twisting, knuckles pale. The rush hit them together—back arching, thighs shaking, moans breaking free at the same ragged second. Jojo dropped back against the footboard, legs wide. Iris crawled in between them and settled on her belly. The silver barbell on her tongue flashed once, then found Jojo’s clit in sure, greedy strokes. Jojo’s breath tore. She gripped the sheet, heels sliding on the mattress. Iris lifted, shifted, swung her own hips around so they could taste each other at once. The first shared lick drew sharp, helpless sounds from both of them. They licked, sucked, circled, groaned into each other’s flesh like they’d been starving for weeks, every wet, hungry sound proof of how new and fierce it still felt.