No Such Thing As Too Much

Bella Rolland needs quiet. So does Lauren Phillips. They found an empty room, two desks, nothing else. Lauren lasts ten minutes before she spins in her chair. She has to know. That date with Bella. The one from last week. Bella’s face goes red. She tries to laugh it off, but the truth slips. The guy said her tongue was too much. Too wet. Too pushy. Lauren stares like Bella just said the sky was green. “Bullshit,” she says. “There’s no such thing.” Bella shrugs. “He walked out before dessert.” Lauren stands up, chair rolling back. “Let me prove it.” She crosses the space between them in three steps. Hands on Bella’s shoulders, warm and steady. “If you want me to stop, say so.” Bella doesn’t say anything. Lauren leans in slow, then faster. Her mouth hits Bella’s with purpose. Tongue first. Thick, wet, sliding past Bella’s lips like it belongs there. Bella tastes coffee and mint and Lauren’s stubbornness. The kiss turns messy in seconds. Spit mixes, runs down Bella’s chin, and neither woman wipes it away. Lauren pushes deeper, tongue curling behind Bella’s teeth, flicking the roof of her mouth. Bella moans, surprised at how loud it comes out. Lauren answers by sucking Bella’s tongue into her own mouth, pulling hard, then letting it slide back wet and heavy. They break for air. A string of spit stretches between them, snaps. Lauren’s eyes are dark. “Still think it’s too much?” Bella’s answer is a grab—fistful of Lauren’s shirt, yanking her back in. This time Bella meets her halfway. Tongues wrestle, sloppy and loud, filling the quiet room with wet sounds and sharp breaths. Lauren’s hand finds the back of Bella’s neck, thumb pressing just under her ear. She tilts Bella’s head, opens her wider, licks in again—slow, deliberate, like she’s proving a point with every stroke. Bella’s thighs press together under the desk. She feels the heat building, slick starting between her legs. Lauren notices, grins against her mouth. “Told you sloppy’s the best kind.” They don’t get back to work. The desks stay empty while they trade tongues, spit, and low curses until both their mouths shine and the room smells like want.