Stop Fucking My Friends: Part Two

Gia pushed the door open and found them still flushed, the scent of sex hanging in the air. Julia sat up first. Molly wiped her mouth and smirked. Neither looked guilty—just amused. "She’s here to ruin the afterglow," Molly said. "Again." Gia clenched her jaw. She hadn’t come to fight, exactly, but hearing them talk about her like she was some stick-in-the-mud made her want to tear the room apart. "You’re supposed to be loyal to my father," she said. "Not fucking my friends on the kitchen counter." Julia reached for her robe but didn’t put it on. Instead, she smiled. "I’m glad you’re talking instead of slamming doors. That’s new." Molly stayed quiet but moved closer, kneeling beside Julia like they’d rehearsed this. "Maybe she just needs reminding how good it feels to stop thinking so much." Gia didn’t leave. Something in the way Julia looked at her—soft, patient, almost fond—made her hesitate. Then the older woman pulled her in, hands warm and sure, settling Gia across her lap like she weighed nothing. Molly’s tongue found them both. Gia’s breath caught. Julia held her tighter. The room grew warmer. Pleasure, simple and unapologetic, started to win.