Make Up Sex

Darla accepted Jillian’s credit card for the flight and the hotel suite that looked out over the ocean. She hated the feeling of needing it. Neither of them spoke about it on the walk in from the airport. Darla paid for the first round of drinks at the beach bar to make up the difference, then Jillian slipped her a second key without looking her in the eye. They lasted one calm dinner before the argument opened up like a cut. “You think I’m weak,” Darla said. “That I can’t pay my own way.” Jillian pressed a napkin to her mouth, then dropped it. “I wanted to give you something you didn’t have to earn. Is that a crime now?” They left plates half-eaten. The elevator ride back smelled like too much perfume and anger. Once the door to the suite shut, Darla shoved Jillian against it. Hands found the hem of the sundress. Darla yanked the cotton up over Jillian’s hips and pinned both wrists to the lacquered wood. “You want to buy me?” she asked. Jillian lifted her chin. “I want you. That’s different.” Darla’s mouth reached Jillian’s neck, biting then soothing. She slid a knee between Jillian’s thighs, felt how wet the lace had already become, and rubbed slow, mean circles through it. Jillian moaned, head knocking back. Darla freed one wrist only to slide two fingers past the gusset, stroking her open until Jillian was shaking. “Come,” Darla ordered. Jillian obeyed, thighs tightening around Darla’s thigh, breath sharp and broken. Before she finished, Darla dropped to her knees, yanked the underwear aside and licked her slowly, cleaning every tremor. Jillian threaded fingers into Darla’s curls, holding her there, riding it out until her knees buckled. They made it to the bed on shaky legs. Darla stripped fast, climbed over Jillian, let her spit-slick clit slide against Jillian’s still-swollen one. Jillian reached down, guided them together, pushing and rubbing in time until both of them came—quiet the first time, loud the second, bodies glued with sweat, the sea air cooling the places their mouths had touched.