Chloë put on a mock serious face.
“Of course not!” she answered. “That’s only for women who have at least three flannel shirts. Morgan has, like, none!”
Naomi screeched her laughter.
“I love her!” she exclaimed to Morgan.
***
“Was I too much?” Chloë asked once she and Morgan were alone, standing next to Morgan’s car in the parking lot. She knew she was more outgoing than Morgan and was suddenly worried that perhaps she had been a little too outgoing or that perhaps she had commandeered too much of the attention at their table.
Morgan’s reply was to press Chloë against the car, bring her hand to the back of Chloë’s neck and pull her in for a hard and deep kiss. As soon as their tongues touched, Chloë’s insides started flooding, pent up desire becoming loosed. All night long she had wanted to touch Morgan, but that was nothing new; they hardly went anywhere without Chloë being unable to keep her hands to herself.
“You were amazing,” Morgan breathed when they finally stopped for air.
“Really?”
“You know something, Miss Marchand?”
“What?”
“You are a trophy girlfriend.”
Chloë giggled.
“I’m serious,” Morgan went on, kissing along Chloë’s jawline. “And it’s not just that you’re smoking hot, it’s because you’re funny, witty—”
“There’s a difference?” Chloë murmured, her eyes closed as Morgan’s kisses moved to that spot just behind her ear.
“Any idiot can be funny,” Morgan said, “but it takes intelligence to be witty.” And then her teeth clamped onto Chloë’s earlobe for the briefest of moments. “Which reminds me, you’re incredibly smart and I got so turned on listening to you talk to Naomi about the Greek Dark Ages.”
“You should hear me spout off about the Peloponnesian War,” Chloë said, wittily.
And Morgan must not have been kidding about liking how witty she was because quick as a flash, Morgan unlocked her car, opened the back door and practically shoved Chloë into the back seat, following right behind her. Once they were both inside, Morgan’s mouth was back on Chloë’s, kissing her desperately and in less than thirty seconds Morgan’s hand was pulling one of the spaghetti straps of Chloë’s dress off her shoulder and before Chloë knew it, her right breast was exposed and Morgan’s hand was cupping it, her palm pressing against her hardened nipple.
Chloë groaned, her inner walls clenching now. They were still in the parking lot of the restaurant. She could hear cars pulling in and out. She could hear people talking nearby. She heard a mother yelling at her kids to stop running; heard a car door shut close by and then the click of a woman’s high heels walking towards the restaurant.
Morgan gave her sensitive nipple a hard pinch just before breaking their kiss and sucking the nipple into her mouth, kicking Chloë’s desire into overdrive.
“Oh, fuck, Miss Banks!”
She felt herself being pushed backward; the nipple still captive in Morgan’s mouth. Her panties were pulled aside and suddenly Morgan was inside her, the fingers sliding in effortlessly, Chloë opening her legs so that her girlfriend could go in as far as she wanted.
Three fingers started fucking her while they kissed again and Chloë didn’t care that they were basically out in public; didn’t care that they were in the parking lot of a busy Oceanside restaurant on a Friday night, acting like two horny teenagers. The illicitness was intoxicating, fueling the heat blooming between her legs.
Chloë knew the rapid fluttering of her walls was signaling to Morgan that she was fast approaching the tipping point.
Morgan broke the kiss and looked down at her and Chloë almost came right then seeing the look of mad desire in her lover’s eyes.
“Don’t hold back, Chloë. Let me hear you!”
“Yes! Fuck!”
“God, you’re tight!”
“I’m gonna come!” Chloë whimpered.
“That’s it! Come loud! I want people to hear you, Chloë! I want them to know!”