Bus Stops #02

Jane drags Amber into the bedroom while Prinzzess lingers in the doorway like a ghost nobody invited. The two girls hit the mattress in a tangle of legs and heat, mouths locked tight, hands already pulling at each other’s clothes. Prinzzess leans against the frame, knuckles white on the wood, and she knows the second Jane’s hips rise she’s out of this picture. Amber’s fingers slip beneath the hem of Jane’s skirt and Jane gasps, bites down on Amber’s lower lip, and rides those fingers like she means it. The bed creaks, louder than the warning in Prinzzess’s chest. Sweat glistens at Jane’s throat as she arches, greedy for every stroke, and the whole room starts to smell like sex and neglect. Prinzzess presses her thighs together but stays planted, the heat between her legs catching fire with no place to go. Amber’s mouth trails lower, teeth grazing the inside of Jane’s thigh, and Jane’s voice cracks raw when she says Amber’s name like a secret meant for two. A faint perfume of vanilla and musk drifts toward the door; Prinzzess swallows it, swallowing the sting of being shut out. The sound of skin on skin fills the space between them, rhythmic and deliberate, daring Prinzzess to cross a line she already knows she won’t.