Page 7 of Scorpio Season

“Ready?” she asks.

Luca nods.

Kneeling between her thighs, Florence leans forward and holds the vibe to Luca’s left nipple. The reaction is instantaneous, a full-body shiver followed by a quiet gasp.

“Sensitive,” Florence observes, delighted, and switches to the right nipple.

Luca’s fingers curl into the bedding. Her voice is a small, breathy whine. “Yeah.”

“You’re so pretty,” Florence murmurs. Leaning forward, she licks a hot stripe up the side of Luca’s neck. She smells incredible—like rain and clean skin and shampoo, woodsy and vaguely masculine.

Florence leans back a fraction so she can look at her hand as she trails the vibe down Luca’s torso. The muscles in her stomach jump at the contact. By the time Florence holds it to her clit, she’s panting, eyes fluttering shut as her back arches into the touch.

“Oh,” Florence whispers, using her free hand to trace a knuckle along Luca’s jaw. “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”

Luca’s only response is a strangled “Y-yeah” as she turns her cheek into Florence’s touch.

Florence ups the intensity on the vibrator, drinking up every shift in Luca’s expression. Even though she’s barely making a noise, she’s still so responsive. Her entire body is taut, fingers white-knuckled where they’re clutching her sheets. She’s trying to look at Florence, but her eyes keep fluttering shut. Something about her unthinking compliance, the way she’s keeping herself still while taking what Florence is willing to give her, fills Florence with a deep, molten heat.

“Was this what you needed?” she asks softly.

“Uh-huh,” Luca manages. Her head tilts back, her hips twitching uncontrollably upward as Florence flicks to the second-highest setting. “Florence, I think I—”

“Are you close?”

“Yeah. Can I . . . ?”

The fact that she’s asking, her voice all raspy and pleading, does something to Florence. There’s a part of her that wants to be a little bit mean—to see how far she can push, to see Luca’s control fray, to find out if she can draw any sounds out of her if she gets truly desperate—but they haven’t spoken about any of this beforehand, and either way, right now all Florence wants is to make Luca feel good.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” she says. “You can come.”

And that’s all it takes. Luca comes with nothing but the softest hitch in her breath, body trembling beneath Florence’s until she shuts off the vibrator and drops it onto the mattress.

Without its buzzing, the room falls quiet, save for the steady pattering of rain against the window.

Florence smooths a hand down Luca’s rib cage. “Good?”

One arm flung over her eyes, Luca gives Florence a breathless thumbs-up.

Florence can’t help it: She laughs, her own need momentarily forgotten as she drops a kiss to Luca’s sternum. “I’m glad.”

Luca takes another second to come back to herself before pushing herself up on her elbows. Her eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as she looks at Florence and asks, “Can I go down on you?”

“Do you want to?” Florence asks.

“Please.”

Florence tilts her head at her. For someone who had remarkably few opinions about her own pleasure, Luca is looking like a no would break her heart where Florence’s is concerned. “All right,” she says.

Luca sits up—Florence notes with some satisfaction that her thighs are still trembling—and procures a dental dam from the bedside table. Florence takes her place on the bed, sinking back into the pillows that smell like Luca. The sight of Luca above her, easily holding herself up on her arms while she slots herself between Florence’s thighs, makes her heart skip a beat.

“Can you hand me a pillow?” Luca asks.

Florence reaches behind her to give one to Luca.

“Thanks.” There’s a quiet confidence in the way she grips Florence’s hips and makes her lift herself up so she can slide the pillow beneath her. Her energy is different now: more focused, intensely attentive as she nudges Florence’s thighs apart and holds the dental dam in place.

“Okay?” she asks.