Jolie de vivre

Ioana knew Jolie's name before they met. The ivory skin, the red hair like hot metal, these things find you. Ioana wanted to taste her mouth, both mouths, wanted to see if the shy girl blushed all the way down. Jolie felt the pull too. Ioana's tan skin, that sureness in her shoulders and hips, undid Jolie's habit of looking away. They stood close in the low light. Fingers touched wrists, lingered. Ioana stepped in first, kissed her quick and rough, then softer, testing. Jolie answered with a small sound that spread heat between them. Ioana peeled Jolie's blouse open, slid a hand beneath lace, felt the nipple tighten under her thumb. Jolie reached, undid Ioana's belt, pushed denim down, fingers brushing the wet heat she found there. They moved to the bed without words. Ioana lay back, opened her legs, let Jolie kneel between. Jolie's tongue traced slow circles, then pressed harder, slick and warm. Ioana's hips lifted once, twice. She held Jolie's hair, guided her, whispered her name. When Jolie crawled up and straddled Ioana's thigh, their clits met with slick pressure. They rocked together, breath meeting breath, until the tremor took them both and left them breathing hard against each other's skin.