At Naya’s birthday party, Tulip and Angel have a private moment in public.
Angel’s favorite thing about her girlfriend Tulip, is that the other woman is absolutely shameless.
If she wants something, she sees nothing wrong in asking for it.
Or demanding it.
Like now.
They’re at a nightclub off Biscayne, an upscale joint that overlooks the beautiful bay. Tulip’s label had rented the entire club in order to kill two birds with one alcohol-filled stone, celebrating her labelmate Naya’s birthday and first album at the same time. The club is packed, but it’s all people they know. Fellow celebrities. Producers. A few reasonably scuzzy execs.
There are no fans.
No family members.
No journalists.
Just a crowd full of people who get it, an open bar with strong drinks, good food to keep them from getting fucked up on an empty stomach, and music so loud that Angel can barely think.
All night, the club’s been playing songs from their label alongside other hits. Naya’s new album of course features heavily, of course, but at one point, the beat shifts and Angel gets a moment to recognize the first handful of seconds of the hidden track on Tulip’s latest EP before the woman in question dances up to her and drops into her lap with a cute little “oof!”. Her back is pressed up against Angel’s front, the sweat-sticky skin peeking out from the cutout at the back of her dress catching against Angel’s cleavage, right above the low collar of her tank top, and her legs are splayed wide across Angel’s thighs. If not for the length of her dress, she’d probably be giving someone quite a show.
Angel licks her lips at the thought and then sighs, the sound shaky to her own ears.
Tulip, tipsy as she is, doesn’t miss a thing.
“They’re playing our song,” Tulip says, turning so that when she speaks, her soft lips move against the curve of Angel’s right ear. She then tilts her head back against the curve of Angel’s shoulder and cackles, as impish as ever. “Can you hear it?”
Of course, Angel can. It’s almost the only thing she can hear. The track is one of her favorites, a smoky and sexy number that used the beats from a song that she’d put together for Tulip for their six-month anniversary.
The hidden track is called “Honey” and every time Angel hears it play, she thinks of Tulip moaning against her clit and staring up at her with wide hungry eyes as the song plays over the speakers in her studio. She doesn’t play it that often for a reason.
[“What was that for,” Angel gasps once she can think about something other than the insistent heat of Tulip’s full lips and sly tongue moving relentlessly between her legs and the orgasm that’d rocked her core moments before.
Tulip grins up at Angel, looking pleased with herself and particularly… sticky. “That is what your beat made me feel like doing.]
“Do you want to dance?” Angel asks Tulip, casting a sidelong glance at the crowded dance floor. She’ll dance if Tulip wants to, of course, she’s not a monster, but hopefully, Tulip won’t want to. “Or we could just cuddle?”
“Mmm,” Tulip says, the sound considering. “Or we could do something else while we’re here…”
–
Conveniently, there’s a massive hole in the right pocket of Tulip’s dress. The hole is wide enough for Angel to wiggle her hand in and skate her fingertips up along the warm length of Tulip’s inner thigh and far less obvious than just sticking her hand up Tulip’s dress.
Not that this isn’t obvious, Angel realizes as Tulip starts to get all… squirmy. All Tulip has done so far – next to nothing really – is tease Tulip with these little touches that go nowhere near where the other woman probably wants them. All she’s done is rubbed Tulip’s thighs and lightly at that. This is nothing, but Tulip keeps squirming and sighing like it’s everything.
And honestly, Angel likes that.
“You’re like this just from a little bit of touching,” Angel says, sliding her hand up closer to where Tulip clearly wants it the most, drawing the touch out inch by inch until Tulip is all but vibrating from want the closer that Angel’s fingers get to the soaked crotch of her thong. “I haven’t even gotten my fingers in you yet and you’re ready to lose it.”
Tulip’s lips smack against Angel’s cheek in a sloppy, sweet kiss and then she wiggles around a bit, canting her hips upward as if it’ll be enough to get Angel to finger her right there in the nightclub. “C’mon! Come on,” she says, voice edging into a whine and pitching upward when Angel’s thumb finally nudges against her clit. “Just – just lemme have this, Angel. Please – “
Fuck.
Even if she’d wanted to, Angel doesn’t know how she’d deny her girl. But –
She can’t just stop teasing.
Angel turns her head so she can kiss the lipsticked corner of Tulip’s soft mouth. She pulls away a little, making Tulip whine and try to lean in for another kiss, and then grins at the sharp, reflexive kick to her calf that Tulip can’t keep from unleashing. “So, what’s in it for me if I fuck you while we’re here?”
She’s teasing.
Mostly.
Honestly, she can’t imagine denying Tulip for much longer. It doesn’t matter that they’re in the middle of the club, that their friends and coworkers could look over and see them like this, she just likes how good it feels to have Tulip so close.
But still –
Teasing is nice.
Especially when it gets her things like Tulip’s low, hungry voice rasping out the promise that, “When we get home, I’ll break out the strap and fuck your ass just like you like, just as long as you give me what I want now.”
And isn’t that one hell of a promise?
So, Angel slips her fingers underneath the damp crotch of Tulip’s thong and strokes them along either side of Tulip’s clit, teasing her with the faintest of circles against that sensitive nub. When Tulip whines, mouth falling open as her hips rock up against that pressure, Angel laughs and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“So… no teasing?”
In response, Tulip rocks her hips up even harder against Angel’s fingers and claws at her bare forearms as if the stinging pain will spur Angel to finally giving her exactly what she wants. “F-fuck you.”
Angel snorts out a laugh, but doesn’t say what she wants to because she’s not in the mood to make Tulip beg. If they were home, or somewhere a little more private, Angel would have no problem drawing it out. She’d have no problem teasing Tulip with the faintest of touches to her slick, soft cunt until Tulip was all but begging for it.
But they’re in a club and their friends could look over at any minute and so –
Angel hitches Tulip up in her lap so that she’s a little more secure, spreading Tulip’s legs even wider around the outside of her thighs and then she just goes for it. She pushes two fingers into the slippery heat of Tulip’s welcoming body, muffling her own desperate groans into the skin of Tulip’s sweaty throat. Like this when she can’t see what she’s looking at and can’t actually see Tulip’s face, she can get distracted by the heat of Tulip’s body, the way her muscles squeeze tight around her fingers, the way that she just knows that they’re only moments way from the wrong person looking the right way and catching them.
Fuck.
“Are you sure you want this, baby?” Angel can barely hear her own voice, mouth pressed up against the curve of Tulip’s ear, but she knows Tulip hears her because the other woman shakes in her grasp and clenches hard around the fingers sliding into her.
“Pleasepleaseplease,” Tulip says, the words running fast like a stream as she wriggles in Angel’s lap, hips trying to meet the thrusts of Angel’s fingers. “F-fuck me. I wanna – fuck –”
“You better come soon then,” Angel says, talking as she thumbs Tulip’s clit in firm circles and keeps up the persistent in and out motions of her fingers, “Anyone can look over here and see you, baby. They’ll look and just fucking know I’m giving it to you good. You don’t want anyone to see that do you?”
She’s expecting Tulip to shake her head, to say ‘no’, to giggle and play coy –
Instead –
Tulip throws her head back against Angel’s shoulder hard enough that the slam of it hurts and she fucking comes all over Angel’s hand, mouth dropping open with a moan that Angel just barely manages to muffle with the desperate press of her mouth.
When Angel breaks the kiss, they’re both panting hard, but the heave of Tulip’s breasts against the front of her dress is obvious. The sight, when Angel looks down her body, almost makes her consider working Tulip into oversensitivity and towards another orgasm.
Almost.
But then Tulip will be useless for the rest of the night and their friends will complain that they’re gross.
Tulip giggles, wrecked voice hitching as Angel carefully pulls her fingers out. “That was fun.”
Angel doesn’t disagree. Sure, her skin feels too small and she knows that she’s going to hate having to wait until the party’s done to get the fucking she wants, but… it was nice feeling Tulip fall apart against her fingers in public. The only thing is –
“We’re never doing this again though,” Angel says, voice as firm as she can make it because she wants to sound like the voice or reason and not like she just wants to get plowed on her own time. “Next time, we’ll go to a bathroom or something.”
–
Afterwards, Tulip makes Angel take a couple selfie with her for her IG account.
They’re still on the couch in their corner of the club when Tulip pulls her phone from the pocket in her dress without the hole in it. Tulip nearly drops it once, still a little dizzy and dreamy from before, but thankfully she doesn’t.
After all, Angel’s left hand is tucked in against Tulip’s stomach to hold her close and her right hand still definitely smells like pussy even though it’s no longer sticky thanks to a quick clean with a discarded napkin, so uh –
Angel is glad that she doesn’t need to dive for Tulip’s phone for a change.
“You okay, baby?” Angel murmurs, nuzzling the side of Tulip’s face as she catches a glimpse of the photo of them that Tulip keeps as her lockscreen. (It’s a photo of them on the couch in Angel’s studio with messy hair and flushed cheeks pressed together as they smile widely at the camera. It’s cute.)
“Mhm,” Tulip says on a sigh, wiggling happily when she unlocks her phone and opens Instagram, pulling up the in-app camera and then moving it around until their faces are centered on the screen. She snaps a photo and then tilts the phone up so that Angel can see it better.
It’s not a photo that Tulip should post to social media. She looks… satisfied. She’s got this goofy ass smile on her face and her eyes are half closed and there’s the shadow of a hickey Angel doesn’t even remember making blooming on her throat. She looks – well…she looks like she’s been railed within an inch of her life.
“Are you sure you want to post that?” Angel asks, thinking back to the last time that Tulip had made the less than stellar decision to post a post-sex selfie online back before she and Angel had been out-out. The glistening brown skin of Tulip’s sweaty bare shoulder obscuring the views of the Las Vegas skyline from her hotel was enough to get gossip columnists talking… The reflection of Angel’s distinctive back tattoos in the glass that one nosy fan spotted within moments of the photo going up?
Well –
That’d caused some chaos.
Tulip nods decisively a moment later.
“Yeah,” she says, typing a caption with one hand and hitting post before Angel has time to actually read it. “It’s fine. Rob will handle it if there’s any issue. But there won’t be. I promise.”
–
Six hours later, the universe proves Tulip wrong when her IG post and its caption (“She makes me feel like Honey”) lands them on the front page of Oh No They Didn’t and Tulip’s manager is busy blowing up Angel’s phone with texts because Tulip isn’t answering hers.
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