Morning Thigh Ride

The bedroom was already warm when Selena opened her eyes. Pale gold slid through the blinds in thin bars and laid itself across the rumpled white sheets, across the curve of a bare shoulder, across the slow rise of the woman tucked against her front. For a moment she did not move. She only breathed. Sleep still clung to the room, soft and a little sweet, the faint clean smell of their detergent mixed with skin and the night they had spent pressed together.

Selena was twenty-four, and the morning felt like it belonged to her in the way quiet things did. Her arm was heavy over Imani’s waist. Her thigh had slipped, sometime before dawn, between Imani’s, and the younger woman had stayed there, curled and trusting, one hand loose on the pillow. Imani was twenty-three. They had been waking like this for months now, in the small apartment with the good light and the bad alarm clock, and Selena still felt a private, ridiculous tenderness at the sight of her girlfriend’s sleep-creased cheek.

She bent and set her mouth, very gently, at the place just under Imani’s ear.

Imani made a small sound, not quite a word. Her lashes fluttered. She shifted back into the solid warmth behind her, and Selena felt the whole length of her, bare from shoulder to hip, the soft give of her ass settling against Selena’s stomach. They had kicked the blankets down in the night. Nothing between them but heat.

“Morning,” Selena murmured, the word shaped against skin.

Imani’s answer was a hum that broke into a sigh when Selena kissed her again, slower, at the hinge of her jaw. “Mm. Hi.” Her voice was still thick. She turned her face a little, seeking, and Selena met her. The first kiss was barely a kiss. Mouths brushing, the corner of a smile, the shared breath of two people who had not yet remembered the day. Then Imani’s lips parted, and the second kiss went deeper without either of them deciding it should.

Selena’s hand spread over Imani’s stomach. Imani arched into it, a lazy, wanting curve, and made another soft sound into Selena’s mouth. The kiss turned. Tongues touched, unhurried at first, then less so. Imani twisted in the circle of Selena’s arm until she was on her back, then halfway onto her side again, chasing the kiss, one thigh sliding over Selena’s. Her nipples brushed Selena’s chest. She was already warm between her legs. Selena could feel the faint damp of her when Imani’s knee hitched higher and her hips pressed in, thoughtless and hungry.

“Easy,” Selena said, but she was smiling, and she kissed the smile into Imani’s mouth. “We just woke up.”

“I know.” Imani’s eyes were dark and a little glazed, the way they got when she wanted to be handled. She nosed at Selena’s cheek, kissed her once, twice, then lingered, open and sweet. “I woke up wanting you. I’ve been half-dreaming about your hands.” A small whine caught at the end of it, embarrassed and honest. “Please. Before we have to be people.”

Selena glanced past her at the clock on the nightstand. The red numbers sat at 7:09. They had said, last night, that they would be out of bed by quarter after if they wanted coffee and a real breakfast before the train. Three minutes, maybe four, if they were reckless with the shower. Not enough. Exactly enough for the kind of need Imani was already wearing all over her face.

“Three minutes,” Selena said softly, brushing Imani’s lower lip with her thumb. “That’s all we’ve got, baby. You hear me?”

Imani nodded, quick, eager. Her cheeks were already pink. “Yes. I’ll be good. I’ll be fast. Just—use me a little. Please, Selena.”

The please landed warm in Selena’s chest. She loved this version of the morning, the one where Imani went soft and asking before her eyes were even all the way open, where the dominance between them was not a performance but a tenderness Imani reached for with both hands. Selena kissed her again, deeper, guiding the pace, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of Imani’s neck. Imani melted into it. She moaned, quiet and breathy, and pressed her bare body closer, breasts flattening against Selena’s, one arm looping around her shoulder as if she could climb inside the kiss.

“That’s my girl,” Selena cooed, and felt Imani shiver at the words. “So sweet when you ask.”

She shifted onto her back and drew Imani with her, arranging her without hurry even though the clock was already eating their minutes. Imani came willingly, half on top, one knee planted in the sheet. Selena bent her own leg and slid her thigh up between Imani’s, firm and sure, until the muscle settled right where Imani was hottest. The contact made Imani gasp. Her hips jerked, an involuntary little grind, and slickness smeared along Selena’s skin in a thin, shocking stripe.

“Oh,” Imani whispered. Her forehead dropped to Selena’s. “Oh, that’s—Selena.”

“I know.” Selena kissed the bridge of her nose, then her mouth, gentle and praising. “You’re already wet for me. Look at you. We haven’t even started and you’re painting my thigh.” Her hand stroked down Imani’s spine, slow, possessive in the softest way. “Go on, baby. Take what you need. Grind on me.”

Imani whimpered. The sound was small and wrecked and exactly what Selena had wanted to hear. She rolled her hips once, experimentally, and the drag of her pussy along the firm curve of Selena’s thigh pulled a louder whine out of her throat. She was swollen, sensitive from sleep and from wanting, and every pass spread her open a little more. Her clit caught on the muscle. She did it again, less careful, chasing the friction, and her breath broke against Selena’s lips.

“That’s it,” Selena murmured, kissing her through it. “Just like that. Nice and desperate. I love when you get like this in the morning. All soft and greedy before you’ve even had coffee.”

“I can’t help it,” Imani said, and the words came out thin. She rocked again, a longer stroke this time, from the wet clutch of her entrance up over her clit and back. The sheet whispered. Her thigh trembled where it braced her. “You feel so good. You’re so—solid. I just want to rub on you until I can’t think.”

“Then do it.” Selena’s voice stayed low and fond, the kind of command that felt like a hand at the back of the neck. She slid two fingers up and traced Imani’s mouth, not pushing in yet, just offering. “Open for me.”

Imani’s lips parted at once. She took the fingers in with a grateful little moan, sucking them down to the second knuckle, tongue curling, cheeks hollowing. Her eyes fluttered shut. The sight of it, Imani’s mouth full, her hips already working in short needy circles, made heat pool low in Selena’s own belly. She ignored it. There would be time later, or there would not, and right now Imani was the one shaking apart on a timeline.

“Good girl,” Selena cooed, and kissed the corner of her mouth around her own fingers. “Suck. Just like that. Let me hear you.”

Imani whined around the intrusion, a soft vibrating sound, and sucked harder. Her tongue worked between the fingers, wet and earnest. Saliva slicked Selena’s knuckles. At the same time her hips found a rhythm, grinding her slick pussy along the length of Selena’s thigh in messy, slippery strokes. Each drag left more of her behind. The muscle shone. Imani’s ass flexed under Selena’s free hand, and Selena squeezed, gentle, guiding her into a deeper roll.

“There you go,” she said against Imani’s temple, kissing the sweat-damp hair there. “Ride my thigh. Don’t be shy about it. I want every bit of that sweet sound.”

Imani moaned, muffled and high, and obeyed. The grind turned frantic in the space of a few breaths. She was not pacing herself. She never could, not when Selena talked to her like this, not when she had something firm to rut against and something in her mouth to suck on like a promise. Her clit dragged and caught and dragged again. Wet sounds rose between them, obscene and small in the quiet room, the soft squelch of her pussy sliding on skin. She whined at every catch, hips stuttering, then pushing harder as if she could climb the sensation.

Selena kissed her neck, open-mouthed and slow, right under the ear where Imani was helpless. “You’re doing so well,” she murmured, the praise warm enough to make Imani’s thighs shake. “Look at you humping me like you can’t stop. My perfect girl. So eager. So easy for me in the morning.” She curled her fingers slightly against Imani’s tongue, a gentle pressure, and Imani sucked them deeper with a broken noise. “That’s it. Use your mouth. Use my thigh. Take it.”

“Mmm—please,” Imani managed, the word distorted around the fingers, spit shining on her lip. She pulled back just enough to speak, desperate, then took them in again as if she could not bear the empty feeling. “I’m—Selena, I’m already—oh, I’m close. I’m sorry, I’m so close, it’s only been a minute, I can’t—”

“Don’t apologize.” Selena kissed her cheek, her jaw, the wet corner of her mouth. Her hand on Imani’s ass urged her faster, not rougher, just surer. “I want you quick. I want you shaking on me before the clock even scolds us. Come on, baby. Grind. Right there. Feel how wet you are. You’re soaking me.”

Imani sobbed a moan and dropped her forehead to Selena’s shoulder, fingers still in her mouth, sucking in frantic little pulses that matched the jerk of her hips. The angle shifted. Her clit rode the highest, firmest part of the thigh, and the friction went bright and mean and perfect. She chased it. Short strokes, then longer, then short again, slippery and shameless, her whole body tightening. Her free hand fisted in the sheet. A whine climbed out of her, thin and continuous, vibrating around Selena’s fingers.

“Good,” Selena cooed, over and over, kissing whatever skin she could reach. “Good girl. My good girl. Let it happen. I’ve got you. Come on my thigh, sweetheart. Make a mess. I want to feel you shake.”

Imani broke.

It was embarrassingly fast and she knew it even as it took her, a hot rush of shame and relief that only made the orgasm sharper. Her hips slammed down and stuttered, grinding through the peak in wet, helpless circles. The climax rolled up from her cunt in a full-body shudder, thighs clamping around Selena’s leg, stomach seizing, toes curling against the sheet. She cried out around the fingers, a soft wrecked wail that turned into a whine, then another, then a string of them as the shaking kept going. Her pussy pulsed and smeared, juices coating Selena’s thigh in a glossy rush, dripping toward the sheet. She sucked hard, mindless, tongue pressed flat, as if the fingers in her mouth were the only thing keeping her from floating off the bed.

Selena held her through it. One arm locked around her back, the other hand steady at her mouth, not pulling away until Imani’s sucking turned sloppy and weak. She kissed Imani’s hair, her temple, the shell of her ear, murmuring praise in a voice gone honey-thick.

“There she is. Oh, baby, there she is. So beautiful. You came so hard for me. Feel that? You’re shaking all over. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Such a good girl, coming on my thigh like you were made for it. So quick. So sweet. I’m so proud of you.”

Imani trembled and trembled. Little aftershocks jerked her hips, each one dragging her oversensitive clit through the mess she had made, and each one pulled a fresh whimper out of her. She let the fingers slip from her mouth at last, a string of spit breaking, and hid her burning face against Selena’s neck.

“That was—God,” she whispered, voice cracked. “That was so fast. I’m sorry. I didn’t even—three minutes, you said three minutes, and I didn’t last one. I’m embarrassed.”

Selena laughed, quiet and fond, and tipped Imani’s chin up so she could kiss her properly, slow and deep, tasting her own skin on Imani’s tongue. “Don’t you dare be sorry. I love how fast you get for me. It’s not embarrassing. It’s mine.” She kissed her again, softer. “You did exactly what I asked. You rode me and you sucked my fingers and you came like a dream. Look at my thigh, baby. You made such a pretty mess.”

Imani glanced down, flushed darker, and made a tiny wounded sound at the shine on Selena’s skin. Her body was still twitching. She shifted, careful, and the movement sent another weak pulse through her. Then her eyes cleared a little, purpose returning under the haze, and she pushed herself up on one elbow. Her mouth was swollen. Her chest heaved.

“Let me eat you out,” she said, breathless, already sliding down an inch as if the decision were made. “Please. I want to stay even. You didn’t—I came and you didn’t, and that’s not fair, I want my mouth on you, I want to make you shake too, right now, I’ll be quick, I’ll—”

“Imani.” Selena caught her face in both hands, gentle but unmistakable, and stopped the downward slide with nothing more than that touch and a look. She cooed the refusal the same way she had cooed the praise, kissing Imani’s forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. “No, sweetheart. Not this morning.”

Imani whined, soft and protesting, hips shifting restlessly against the ruined thigh. “But we won’t be even. I hate when I’m the only one. Let me taste you. Just a little. I’ll make it fast, I promise, I’ll—”

“We have to get out of bed.” Selena kissed her again, lingering, loving, a period at the end of the argument. “It’s already past time. If you put your mouth on me I will not let you up for twenty minutes, and you know it, and then we miss the train and we spend the whole morning mad at the clock instead of sweet on each other. I want you even. I do. Just not in the next ninety seconds.”

Imani’s mouth wobbled into something between a pout and a smile. The whine faded into a laugh that still shook. “You’re mean.”

“I’m on time,” Selena said, and nuzzled her. “And I’m very, very fond of you. Up, baby. One more kiss, and then we start the day.”

She gave her that kiss, deep and unhurried in the way that made a liar of the clock, one hand in Imani’s hair, the other spread warm over her back. Imani sighed into it, pliant, the last of the orgasm shivering out of her shoulders. When they parted, Selena sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, then reached back and helped Imani rise, steadying her when her knees dipped. The sheet clung, then fell away. Morning light painted both of them, Selena’s thigh still wet, Imani’s inner thighs slick and trembling.

They stood a moment in the gold, foreheads touching, smiling the private smile of people who had started the day exactly as they liked and were only a little late because of it.

“Shower,” Selena said, thumb stroking Imani’s cheek. “I’ll make the coffee if you start the water. And tonight, when we’re home and nobody is counting minutes, you can stay even for as long as you want.”

Imani nodded, but her eyes had already gone somewhere else, bright and scheming under the softness. She kissed Selena once more, quick and grateful, and padded toward the bathroom with her lower lip caught between her teeth. By the time the water started she was already planning it in detail: not a rushed thank-you, not a polite return of favor squeezed between the door and dinner. She would get Selena on the couch the moment they walked in, still in her work clothes, and she would take her time. She would spread those strong thighs and put her mouth where the morning had left her hungry, and she would not stop at even. She would keep Selena there, cooing and shaking, until the score was a story neither of them bothered to keep. The thought made her smile into the steam, already arranging the first kiss of the night.