Chapter 10: The Morning After
Grace woke to the soft, steady rhythm of Skye’s heartbeat against her ear. The world came back in pieces: the crush of warm duvet, the faint ache in her shoulders and between her legs, the smell of Skye’s skin—salt and sleep and something uniquely her. She was still curled on her side, her back nestled into the curve of Skye’s body. The destroyed red lace was a gritty, damp second skin against her own. Skye’s arm was a heavy, possessive weight around her waist, her hand splayed over Grace’s stomach.
Skye stirred behind her, a deep inhale that made her chest expand against Grace’s back. Her lips brushed the nape of Grace’s neck. “Morning,” she murmured, her voice sleep-roughened and warm.
Grace hummed, turning in the circle of her arms. She faced Skye, their noses almost touching in the quiet dimness. Skye’s eyes were soft, her long hair tangled across the pillow. She wore only her black cotton panties. The sight of her, rumpled and real, sent a fresh, quiet thrill through Grace’s core.
“Hey,” Grace whispered.
Skye leaned in and kissed her. It was nothing like the voracious kisses of the night before. This was slow, a gentle exploration of swollen lips, a languid tasting. A simple good morning. When they parted, Skye’s thumb traced the line of Grace’s jaw. “You’re still in it,” she said, a note of awe in her voice. Her fingers plucked at a strap of the red lace bra.
Grace looked down at herself. The delicate fabric was stretched, stained, one cup completely displaced. She remembered the feel of it against the window, the way the lace had bitten into her skin when Skye pulled her hips back. A blush warmed her cheeks, but it was a different heat now—pride, mixed with a sated kind of shyness. “Yeah.”
“My shy, blushing Grace,” Skye said, echoing her words from the night, but her tone was all tenderness now. “In fuck-me-red lace and rugby laces. I think my brain short-circuited.”
Grace smiled, a genuine, unguarded curl of her lips. “You liked it?”
“Liked it?” Skye let out a breathless laugh. “Grace, you fucking ruined me. In the best way. I’ve never seen you like that. You were… a vision. A fucking force of nature.”
“I spent nearly an hour yesterday,” Grace admitted, tucking her head under Skye’s chin. “At that boutique downtown. I must have tried on twenty sets. I felt ridiculous. But then I saw this one and… I just knew. I knew it was for you.”
Skye’s arms tightened around her. She kissed the top of Grace’s head. “Worth every second. And every penny.” She was quiet for a moment, her fingers drawing absent patterns on Grace’s bare back. “I’ve got a game tomorrow. The big rivalry match against State.”
“I know,” Grace said. “It’s on your calendar.”
“Come watch.” Skye’s voice was casual, but Grace felt the subtle tension in her body. “You don’t have to, like… hold my hand on the sideline or anything. We don’t have to do the whole public couple announcement if you’re not ready. I just… I want you there. I play better when I know you’re in the stands.”
Grace pulled back to look at her. The vulnerability in Skye’s eyes, so rarely shown, made her heart clench. This tough, confident girl needed her there. “Skye,” she said softly. “Of course I’ll be there. I’ve been to every home game for two years.”
“I know, but… it’s different now.”
“It is,” Grace agreed. She leaned in and kissed her, putting all the reassurance she felt into it. “And I’ll be there. Your girlfriend will be in the stands, yelling herself hoarse.”
The word ‘girlfriend’ hung in the air between them, new and momentous. Skye’s face broke into a dazzling, relieved smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Skye kissed her again, and this one deepened, the slow morning embers catching a new breath of wind. Grace sighed into her mouth, her hands coming up to tangle in Skye’s wild hair. The taste of her was familiar now, essential. Skye’s hands slid down Grace’s back, over the lace, tracing the faint, raised welts left by her own possessive grip hours before. Grace shivered.
“You’re marked up,” Skye murmured against her lips, her voice dipping lower.
“By you.”
That was all it took. The gentle cuddle ignited into something hungrier. Skye rolled Grace onto her back, covering her body with her own, kissing her with a growing desperation. Grace’s hands shoved at the ruined lace, pulling the bra down her arms, kicking the thong down her legs. Skye wriggled out of her panties. In moments, they were skin to skin, a tangle of limbs and heated breath on the thousand-thread-count sheets.
They made out like teenagers, for long, delicious minutes. There was no rush, just the rediscovery of each other’s mouths, the slide of tongues, the nip of teeth. Skye palmed Grace’s small breast, her thumb circling a nipple until it was a hard peak. Grace arched into the touch, a low moan vibrating in her throat. Her own hands roamed over the powerful muscles of Skye’s back, down to the firm curves of her ass, pulling her closer, fitting their hips together.
“Shower,” Skye gasped, breaking the kiss. “We smell like a brothel.”
“Your brothel,” Grace countered, breathless.
Skye grinned, that wicked, beautiful grin. “Damn right.” She slid off the bed, pulling Grace up with her. They stumbled, laughing softly, toward the luxurious bathroom.
The room was a temple of steam and chrome. Skye turned the shower on, and a cascade of water roared from the large, rainforest head. Steam began to billow, clouding the mirrors. She stepped in first, hissing as the hot water hit her skin, then held out a hand.
Grace took it, stepping into the torrent. The water was almost scalding, perfect. It sluiced over her head, her shoulders, her marked back, a thousand tiny points of heat beating down on the physical memories of the night. She tipped her head back, letting it stream over her face.
Skye watched her, water plastering her long dark hair to her neck and shoulders. Her gaze was dark, hungry, full of a possessive awe. She reached for a bottle of expensive shower gel, squeezing a dollop into her palm. “Turn around,” she said, her voice echoing off the marble.
Grace obeyed, facing the wall. Skye’s soap-slick hands began to move over her back, washing her with a thorough, intimate gentleness. She massaged the muscles of Grace’s shoulders, her strong fingers kneading out the tension. She soaped every inch, her hands sliding down the graceful line of Grace’s spine, over the faint red marks, over the tight curves of her ass. It was tender, almost worshipful.
Then those hands grasped Grace’s hips and turned her back around. Skye’s eyes were blazing. “My turn to taste you,” she said, but it wasn’t a question. It was a statement of intent.
She guided Grace back under the water, rinsing the soap from her front. Then, her hands firm on Grace’s hips, she pushed.
Grace understood. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She sank to her knees on the cool, non-slip tiles of the shower floor. The hot water pounded directly on her head and shoulders now, streaming in rivulets down her back, over the fresh, clean marks. She looked up through the spray. Skye stood above her, legs planted apart, water coursing down the powerful definition of her quads and abdomen. Her brunette hair was a dark waterfall. She was glorious.
Skye cradled Grace’s face with one hand. “Open your mouth.”
Grace did, her lips parting. Skye guided herself forward, until the dark, neat curl of her pubic hair was level with Grace’s mouth. The scent, even clean and mixed with citrus soap, was unmistakably Skye. Musky, primal, irresistible.
Grace didn’t need further instruction. She leaned forward, burying her face between Skye’s thighs. Her tongue found Skye’s folds, already slick with more than just water. She licked a long, slow stripe from her entrance all the way up to her clit.
Above her, Skye gasped, her hands flying to the chrome grab bar on the wall for support. “Fuck, yes…”
Grace did it again, establishing a rhythm. Long, deliberate licks, lapping at the essence of her. She circled Skye’s clit with the flat of her tongue, then fastened her lips around it, sucking gently.
“Oh, god, Gracie…” Skye moaned, her hips rolling forward, seeking more pressure.
Emboldened, Grace slid a hand up Skye’s thigh. She pressed two fingers against Skye’s entrance, feeling the incredible heat and slickness there. She pushed inside, curling them up, searching.
She found it. That rough, magic spot inside.
Skye cried out, a sharp, beautiful sound that bounced off the walls. “Yes! Right there, fuck, don’t stop!”
Grace fucked her with her fingers, in and out, while her mouth and tongue worked her clit. The rhythm was relentless, driven by the sounds Skye was making—guttural, pleading moans that were the best music Grace had ever heard. The water beat down on Grace’s back, a percussive counterpoint to Skye’s cries.
Skye’s hand tangled in Grace’s wet hair, not forcing, but holding, grounding herself. “Just like that, baby, just like that, I’m so close…”
Grace doubled her efforts. She sucked Skye’s clit hard into her mouth, flicking her tongue over the sensitive bud while her fingers pumped deep and fast.
Skye’s body went rigid. Her thighs clamped around Grace’s head, a vice of pleasure. A ragged, shattered scream tore from her throat, echoing in the steamy enclosure. Grace felt the hot flood of her release against her lips and chin, and she drank it greedily, swallowing every drop as Skye shook apart above her.
Skye slumped against the wall, boneless, her chest heaving. Grace gently withdrew her fingers and rested her forehead against Skye’s trembling stomach, panting herself. The water began to run cool.
After a moment, Skye’s hands, weak and gentle, urged Grace to stand. Grace rose on unsteady legs. Skye pulled her into a fierce, steaming kiss, her tongue delving into Grace’s mouth, tasting herself there. It was filthy and profound.
“Now me,” Grace whispered against her lips, her own need a throbbing, insistent pulse between her legs.
Skye’s eyes, heavy-lidded and satisfied, flashed with renewed hunger. Without a word, she sank to her knees on the tiles, the roles reversed.
Without a word, she sank to her knees on the tiles, the roles reversed. Her hands gripped the backs of Grace’s thighs, pulling her close. Skye’s mouth found her with no preamble, no teasing kiss. She licked into Grace with a focused, hungry intensity, her tongue flat and firm against Grace’s swollen clit.
Grace’s head thumped back against the wet marble wall. A broken cry ripped from her throat. Her fingers immediately plunged into Skye’s soaking dark hair, fisting the strands, holding on as her knees threatened to buckle. “Right there, fuck, just like that…”
Skye ate her with a starving devotion, her tongue diving deep into Grace’s entrance before returning to circle her clit with relentless precision. The hot water cascaded over them both, mixing with the slickness Skye was drawing from her. Grace’s hips stuttered forward, chasing the pressure. Pleasure coiled tight and electric in her gut, a live wire about to snap.
Her legs began to tremble violently, muscles turning to liquid. The strength simply left them. “Skye, I can’t– I’m gonna fall.”
Skye pulled back, her mouth glistening. Her eyes were black with want. “Then don’t stand.” Before Grace could process it, Skye guided her down, turning her, laying her back on the wide, flat shower drain. The tiles were cool and hard against her shoulder blades. Skye moved over her, ready to descend again.
But a new, bold heat flashed through Grace.
She planted a foot on Skye’s sternum and pushed. Not hard, but with firm intention. Skye grunted in surprise, tumbling back onto her ass in the streaming water. Grace was on her in an instant, moving with a gymnast’s control. She straddled Skye’s face, her thighs framing Skye’s head, and lowered herself onto that waiting, wicked mouth.
“No,” Grace breathed, the water spraying around them. “Like this.”
She captured Skye’s wrists and pinned them to the wet tiles above her head, sliding her own knees down to trap them there. Skye was immobilized, her arms stretched back, her powerful body supine and surrendered. A low, approving groan vibrated against Grace’s core.
Grace looked down the line of her own body, watching. She rolled her hips, grinding her wet, aching flesh against Skye’s mouth. Skye’s tongue pushed deep inside her immediately, fucking her with it.
“You fucked me against a window last night,” Grace moaned, her voice rising above the hiss of the shower. She rode her face harder, setting a demanding rhythm. “You tied me up with your fucking laces and made me scream.”
Skye’s response was a muffled, eager sound, her tongue working faster.
“You came inside me,” Grace gasped, her own words thrilling her, making her bolder. She clenched around the probing tongue, bearing down. “Now taste it. Taste what you did. Lick it all out of me, you fucking animal.”
She was lost in it, the raw power of controlling the very mouth that had unraveled her so completely. She fucked Skye’s face with abandon, her hands braced on the shower wall for leverage. The world narrowed to the searing point of contact and the obscene, wet sounds of Skye devouring her.
“I’m gonna come,” Grace warned, her body tightening. “You’re going to swallow every drop. You’re going to drink me until I’m empty.”
The orgasm exploded through her, a white-hot detonation that locked her spine. She ground down viciously as she shook, crying out Skye’s name into the steam. Skye held her there, drinking the pulses from her until the last tremor subsided and Grace collapsed sideways, spent, into the shallow water pooling on the floor.
They lay there for a minute, breathing hard, water beating down. Skye wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across her face. “Good morning to you, too.”
Grace laughed, a breathless, giddy sound. She crawled over and kissed her, tasting herself, salty and deep. “Hi.”
They helped each other up, bodies slick and sated. They washed each other properly this time, hands gentle, soap gliding over skin that hummed with sensation. Skye traced the faint lace marks on Grace’s wrists again. “These might last a day or two.”
“Good,” Grace said, and meant it.
They stepped out into the cooler air of the bathroom, toweling each other dry with thick, fluffy hotel linens. The quiet was comfortable, filled with soft touches and exchanged smiles. Grace pulled on her simple jeans and a soft grey t-shirt from her overnight bag. Skye dressed in her bold style—a flowing skirt and a cropped button-up.
Skye packed the ruined red lingerie into her own bag with a reverent care. “A trophy,” she said, catching Grace’s look.
They left the keycard on the desk and exited the room. The hallway carpet was silent under their feet. In the elevator, Skye reached for Grace’s hand. Their fingers laced together naturally, a perfect fit. Grace leaned her head against Skye’s shoulder, inhaling the clean, familiar scent of her now mixed with hotel soap.
Outside, the afternoon sun was bright. The city moved around them, oblivious. They walked toward the train station, hand in hand, the contact feeling both extraordinarily new and deeply, unquestionably right.
“I’ll be a mess tomorrow at the game,” Skye said, squeezing her hand. “All nerves.”
“You’ll be amazing,” Grace said, lifting their joined hands to kiss Skye’s knuckles. “I’ll be the one screaming your name. Just like last night.”
Skye laughed, a free, happy sound. “Can’t wait.”
Grace smiled, looking at their linked hands swinging between them. She couldn’t wait either. For the game, for the roar of the crowd, for the sight of Skye charging down the pitch, powerful and focused. For everything that came after.