The Layover

Riley caught the knot in April’s shoulder and pressed her thumbs deep. “You’re a rock,” she said. April’s arms trembled on her knees. The hotel had no openings left; she would simply have to fly sore and brittle. Riley lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll do it. Thirty minutes. Front or back?” April stripped to her underwear and lay face-down on the crisp hotel bed. Riley straddled her thighs, oil warming between her palms. Each stroke unwound April from nape to tailbone until her breaths deepened into low, lazy sighs. A finger slipped beneath the waistband, tugging cotton lower. “Let me get this out of the way.” April’s pulse jumped when Riley’s slick hands cupped both cheeks, spreading and squeezing, thumbs gliding close to the crease. Heat flushed through her. Riley leaned forward, breasts brushing April’s back, and pressed a slow kiss just beneath her ear. “Still tense?” she asked. April only nodded. They rolled. Riley’s mouth found April’s, soft then insistent, tongues sliding. She worked her way down, licking circles around tight nipples, then lower, parting April with her tongue until April’s fingers tangled in the sheets. April pulled her up, tasted herself on Riley’s lips, then crawled between her legs and returned the favor, sucking and stroking until Riley’s thighs trembled. April came with a soft, helpless sound against Riley’s thigh; Riley followed moments later, hips rolling, fingers clutching April’s hair. Sweat cooled on their skin, the mattress rumpled beneath them, the clock still counting down until wheels-up.