A New Beginning Part 3
The room was glowing with early morning light when Leah finally stirred. She didn't even have to open her eyes to know Julie wasn't in bed anymore. The mattress shifted as Julie sat down beside her, already dressed in those ratty cutoff shorts and that tank top she'd ruined last summer painting the porch. "Rise and shine, princess, " Julie said, shoving a too-hot mug into Leah's hands. The coffee tasted like dirt—Julie always left the grounds in too long—but Leah drank it anyway, watching Julie tie her work boots with those quick, practiced movements. Sunlight made the fine hairs on Julie's arms look like they were made of gold. "Already got started on the cleaning crap, " Julie nodded toward the hallway where Leah could hear buckets knocking together. "Figured we'd hit the kitchen first—that fridge could probably walk out on its own by now."
Leah groaned as she sat up, her body protesting last night's activities. Julie's smirk said everything—yeah, she noticed the limp. They worked quietly side by side, Julie attacking the ancient oven with military efficiency while Leah went after the cabinets with vinegar and yesterday's newspaper. Every now and then, Leah caught Julie looking—her eyes lingering a second too long on Leah's bare legs where her sleepshirt had ridden up, or the way her hands shook just a little when she reached for the top shelves. Once, Leah turned suddenly and caught Julie mid-sip from her water bottle—those green eyes darting away too fast. The bottle slipped, water spilling down Julie's front, making her shirt stick to every curve. Leah's mouth went dry. "Smooth, " she joked, tossing Julie a rag. Julie snatched it out of the air one-handed while peeling her soaked shirt away with the other. "Distracted, " she shot back, and Leah's legs nearly gave out.
Around three, the growl of a diesel engine cut off whatever smartass comment Leah had ready. Julie's head whipped around—her boots banged against the floor as she sprinted outside. Leah followed slower, gravel digging into her bare feet. The moving truck took up half the driveway, air brakes sighing like some exhausted beast. Two huge guys climbed out—one already wiping sweat off his forehead even though it wasn't that hot. Julie was up on the truck's ramp before they could even undo the first strap. "Careful with the wood crate!" she snapped, hovering as they wheeled out a massive framed drawing. Leah knew that piece—Julie's favorite charcoal sketch of the Texas hills, the one she wouldn't sell no matter how much people offered. The movers exchanged looks but didn't argue, muscles flexing as they carried it inside. Julie followed like a mother hen, hands twitching like she wanted to snatch it away from them.
Leah hovered by the truck's open back, breathing in that weirdly comforting smell of cardboard and packing tape. Her own stack of boxes looked kinda pathetic next to Julie's—all perfectly labeled in David's neat handwriting. Her chest tightened when she saw one marked *L. Cohen - Kitchen* in those blocky letters she'd recognize anywhere. She ran her fingers over it before grabbing a flimsy banker's box labeled *BOOKS*. The bottom immediately ripped open—paperbacks spilled everywhere with quiet thumps. "Shit, " Leah muttered, dropping to her knees as pages flapped in the breeze. Julie appeared beside her, rescuing a beat-up copy of *The History of the Byzantine Empire* just before some mover's boot could crush it. "Obviously, " Julie said dryly, tucking it under her arm like it was priceless before effortlessly lifting two heavy boxes like they were empty. One of the guys whistled. Julie didn't even glance his way, just jerked her head toward the house. "Your sketchbooks are already in the bedroom. Figured you'd want them first."
Inside looked like an art gallery after a hurricane. Julie's paintings leaned against every wall—some still wrapped in plastic, others already free, their bright colors bleeding into the dusty afternoon light. Leah's few pieces of furniture seemed ridiculous in comparison—her grandma's delicate writing desk looked like a toy next to Julie's massive steel drafting table, its legs bolted straight through the original hardwood floors. A teetering tower of unopened boxes formed a weird monument in the living room, Sharpie labels announcing things like *JSMITH - PASTELS* and *JSMITH - EROTICA (SERIOUSLY, KEEP OUT)*. Leah laughed, kicking one lightly with her sneaker. Julie caught the movement and grinned, reaching up to grab a busted shoebox from the closet shelf. "Found your secret shit, " she said, shaking it. The unmistakable sound of vibrating plastic made Leah's face go hot. Julie's smile turned wicked. "Relax, newbie. I won't look... unless you beg."
Leah's stomach growled—loud enough to echo. She slapped a hand over it, mortified. Julie blinked. "When did we last eat?" Leah thought back—breakfast had been chugged coffee while throwing clothes into boxes, lunch forgotten in the chaos. "Fuck, " Julie muttered, tossing the shoebox onto the bed. "Let's get food, " Leah said, eyeing the sketchy microwave that came with the place. Julie laughed. "Yeah, no kidding." Then, without warning, she grabbed Leah's wrist and pressed her palm against her own growling stomach. The heat of Julie's skin under her fingers sent a sudden, entirely different kind of hunger twisting through Leah.
They threw on clothes in a hurry—Julie in her usual ratty cutoffs and a tank top sticking to her sweaty skin, Leah in soft cotton shorts and that linen blouse she'd swiped from David's closet months back. It still carried a trace of his cologne—that citrusy-woodsy mix—but Leah was surprised to find it didn't bother her like she thought it would. The rental car's busted vinyl seats scorched the backs of Leah's thighs as Julie gunned it out of the driveway, kicking up a storm of red dirt behind them. Julie drove like she did everything else—full throttle, zero chill—her knee banging against the gearshift while she half-sang along to the crackling country station. Leah white-knuckled the door handle, torn between sheer panic and something warm and fluttery low in her gut as Julie took a curve without even tapping the brakes.
The bar materialized outta nowhere—a beat-up box of a building with neon signs flickering against the dusk. *Hank's Hideaway*, the buzzing letters lied, because the place was about as subtle as a shotgun blast with all the noise pouring out the screen door. Julie parked crooked across two spaces, killing the engine with a jerk. "This'll do, " she declared, like they hadn't passed three other equally sketchy joints. Leah opened her mouth to argue—she could already taste the stale beer and fryer grease in the air—but Julie was already crunching across the gravel lot, her boots kicking up dust. "Burgers, booze, " Julie tossed over her shoulder, "and I spotted a no-tell motel two blocks down." The unspoken meaning settled between them, heavy as the Texas air. Leah's breath hitched.
Inside, the place was all sticky booths and lazy ceiling fans just pushing the heat around. Some sad country song fought with the clack of pool balls from the jukebox in the corner. Julie grabbed them a booth in back—right under a struggling AC unit—and threw her legs across Leah's lap before the waitress even brought menus. Leah ran her fingers along the sun-frayed edge of Julie's shorts, trying real hard not to notice how Julie's tank top gaped when she leaned over to check the plastic-coated specials. "Double bacon cheeseburger, " Julie announced, smacking the menu down like a judge with a gavel. "Extra pickles. And whiskey." Leah blinked. "Whiskey?" Julie's grin was all trouble. "Welcome to Texas, sweetheart. When in Rome."
The plates were chipped when the food showed up—Leah's burger already leaking grease onto the wax paper underneath, Julie's stacked so tall she had to squish it down with her hand before she could even take a bite. The whiskey hit hard on the way down, smoky and sharp, mixing weirdly with the sweet caramelized onions. Leah caught Julie licking ketchup off her thumb and felt something twist low in her gut. Then Julie's boot slid between her ankles under the table, like a quiet challenge. Leah hooked her foot around Julie's calf right back, and Julie shot her this look over the edge of her glass—those green eyes sharp and knowing.
The bar was filling up slow—cowboys in beat-up hats slumping onto stools, laughing too loud in the thick air. Some women in sundresses crowded around the jukebox, heels tapping against the floor. Julie's fingers found Leah's knee under the table, drawing lazy circles that sent little shocks up her thigh. Leah barely bit back a noise when those fingers inched higher—right as the waitress stopped to top off their waters. Julie didn't even blink, just nodded toward the bathroom like nothing was happening. "Be right back, " she said, sliding out of the booth slow, deliberate. Leah watched her walk away—the way her hips moved, how her tank top stuck to the sweat on her lower back—then downed the rest of her whiskey in one go.
The ice rattled when she set the glass down. That's when she spotted them—two guys propped against the bar, hats tilted but not enough to hide how they kept looking her way. Late thirties, probably. One had on a denim jacket even in this heat, sleeves pushed up to show thick arms. The other was wiry, all sunbaked skin and sharp edges. They weren't even pretending to chat, just sipping beers while eyeballing her booth. Her heart kicked up—not scared, exactly, but something messier. She pulled at the collar of David's old shirt, suddenly way too aware of how loose it hung on her. Denim Jacket lifted his beer at her, like a silent "cheers." Leah looked down fast, picking at her napkin until it tore under her fingers.
Julie slid back into the booth like she owned the place—all restless energy and that smirk Leah knew meant trouble. "Chill, " she muttered, snagging one of Leah's cold fries. "They're just staring like guys do. Probably think we're related." Leah rolled her eyes. "Yeah, 'cause we're totally twins." Julie stole Leah's whiskey next, downing it in one go like she hadn't just ordered her own drink five minutes ago. "Seriously?" Leah hissed, watching the guys in the mirror behind the bar. "What if they ask us to dance?" Julie's knee bumped hers under the table—warm skin against denim—and didn't pull away. "Dancing could be fun, " she admitted, wiping her thumb along her sweaty glass. "But if they want more..." Her fingers curled around Leah's wrist, light but deliberate. "That's my department." The way she said it made Leah shiver.
Some sad country song about lost love and whiskey started playing, and Leah froze as the guy in the denim jacket pushed off the bar. He walked like he'd rather be on a horse than in this dive, his shadow falling across their table right as Julie stole Leah's last onion ring. "Evenin', " he drawled, his voice syrup-slow. Close up, he smelled like leather and drugstore cologne. His eyes kept drifting to Julie's tank top straps. "You girls from around here?" Julie stretched her arms along the booth like she was settling in for the night—all fake-casual. "Just driving through, " she lied, her boot tapping Leah's ankle in warning. His buddy sidled up, thumbs hooked in his jeans. "No need to leave yet, " he said, nodding at the dance floor. "Party's just gettin' started."
Leah's heart thumped hard enough she could feel it in her ears. She was about to make some excuse when Julie flashed that sharp grin of hers and slid out of the booth—her shirt riding up as she moved. Leah stared. Julie tossed cash on the table and raised an eyebrow at her. "You in or what?" Denim Jacket reached for Leah's hand—his palm rough like he actually worked for a living—but Julie grabbed it first, lacing their fingers together tight enough to hurt. "She's with me, " Julie said, all sweetness with an edge. The guys exchanged looks—equal parts confused and interested—before shrugging and leading them toward the music.
Fast songs were Leah's safety net. She let the twang of the guitar and thump of the bass swallow up her nerves, copying Julie's loose hip swings as they two-stepped with the guys. Ben—Denim Jacket Ben—turned out to be lighter on his feet than he looked, guiding her through the steps with hands that didn't rush. Beside them, Travis matched Julie's energy perfectly, their laughter cutting through the music. For a handful of breathless minutes, Leah stopped thinking—just moved, sweat gathering at her temples under the bar's flickering neon. Then the song changed. A slow one crawled out of the jukebox, all weepy steel guitar and dragging fiddle notes. Leah stiffened. Ben paused, shooting Julie a look like he'd forgotten the rules. Julie rolled her eyes, yanked Travis into a lazy hold. "Relax, " she mouthed over his shoulder, nodding at Ben. That smirk of hers softened—just a quick, knowing tilt of her chin that said *you're fine.*
When Leah let Ben pull her closer, he smelled like hay and motor grease, his palm warm and dry against her lower back. She left enough space between them to be polite, fingers barely touching his shoulder. Across the floor, Julie had her face tucked against Travis's collarbone, eyes half-shut like she was either lost in the music or planning mischief. The song dragged on, syrupy and endless, until Leah quit counting each inhale. Her boot caught on Ben's, and he laughed low in his chest. "City girl, huh?" he teased, steering her through the turn like it was nothing. Leah snorted. "That obvious?" His grin carved deeper lines by his eyes. "Just means I gotta lead better."
Whiskey hit Julie different—loosened her up, smoothed out her sharp edges. She sprawled across the booth like she owned the damn thing, arm slung along the back while Travis spun tales about rodeo wrecks and pissed-off broncos. Leah bit her lip to hide a smile when Julie groaned at his punchlines, her bare foot tracing idle circles against Leah's shin under the table. Ben slid a fresh beer her way, condensation sweating down the glass. "So what brings y'all to Nowhere, Texas?" Julie's toes stilled against Leah's leg. "Art, " she said, tapping her temple. "Big sky, open spaces. Inspiration." Travis barked a laugh. "Inspiration for what? Fire ant bites?" Julie flicked a peanut at him. "For your info, cowboy, I'd be the one biting *them*."
Leah watched the whole thing with amused detachment, fingers tapping her thigh to the jukebox's dying twang. Ben's knee bumped hers—probably by accident—and she jerked back like she'd been shocked. He chuckled, warm and a little sorry. "Easy, " he murmured, pushing the beer closer. "Just thirsty, not *thirsty*." The joke flopped, but the crinkles at his eyes took the edge off. Across the table, Julie was using Travis's belt buckle to demonstrate how to skin a rattlesnake. Leah exhaled hard through her nose. Of course she was.
The band kicked up a rowdy fiddle tune, and Julie grabbed Travis by the wrist before he could blink. "Last dance, " she announced, hauling him toward the dance floor with a smirk tossed at Leah that said *just wait*. Travis tripped after her, boots dragging through sawdust, while Ben shook his head and leaned into Leah's shoulder. "She's a damn force of nature, " he admitted under the music. Leah watched Julie move—the way her hips rolled, how her fingers tugged Travis' belt loops—and felt her gut twist. "You don't know the half of it, " she mumbled into her drink.
Ben's laugh cut off when Travis blurted out, "So y'all are more 'partners' than just friends, huh?" The words landed like a bootheel on glass. Julie didn't flinch—as Travis whirled her into a dip, grinning like a fox in a henhouse. "Not that we care, " Travis added too fast, face red from booze and dancing, "but maybe ease folks into it." The jukebox clicked off right as Travis pulled Julie upright. Every damn head in the bar swiveled when she said, "Then they better get used to us quick." She marched back to the booth, sweat shining at her temples. "Ain't hidin' shit." Her palm hit the table—glasses jumped—"Not even in goddamn Texas."
Leah's heart thumped hard enough to bruise. She saw Ben's face change—first confused, then working it out, finally something close to impressed—while Travis rubbed the back of his neck. The bartender froze with his rag halfway across the counter. Some woman by the jukebox whispered behind her hand. Julie flipped her hair, looking proud as hell, and dropped into the booth like someone who'd just tossed a lit match into dry grass. "Another round?" she asked, all innocence. Ben snorted. "Reckon y'all just ordered more trouble than whiskey, " he muttered, but waved the waitress over anyway.
Leah dug her fingers into the table's edge. "Seriously? You couldn't just let them think we were cousins or something?" Julie's hand closed around her wrist, thumb pressing against her racing pulse. "Playing pretend sucks, " she said, low enough that only Leah could hear. "And I'm sick of watching you make yourself small for people who don't deserve you." The words punched Leah in the gut—suddenly she was back in David's apartment, swallowing her words and wants until she nearly disappeared. Julie's knee knocked against hers under the table—steadying. "Also, " Julie added, voice rising, "I look like shit in plaid. Nobody would believe we're related."
Travis's laugh exploded across the booth, his hat nearly falling off as he banged the table. "Holy shit, city girl, you picked a fighter." Leah shot him a look—annoyed but not angry—while Julie smirked, taking a swig from Leah's abandoned beer. Ben coughed, sliding the glass back toward Leah with an awkward grin. "She's not wrong, " he said, scratching his scruff. "Small towns gossip no matter what. At least now you know who's real." He held his hand out between them—palm up, work-rough skin catching the dim light—not pushing, just offering. Leah hesitated. Julie's grip on her wrist tightened—not holding her back, just saying *you decide*.
The jukebox kicked on again—some sad country song about pickup trucks and heartbreak—and Leah blew out a sharp breath. She grabbed Ben's hand. His grip was warm, solid without being crushing, and when he shook their clasped hands like they'd just closed a business deal, Leah actually snorted. "You're such a dork, " she said, but the tension in her shoulders loosened. Travis hollered, flicking a peanut at Julie's forehead. "You two are a hell of a lot more interesting than the church ladies who usually move here."
The bartender pushed four shots of that cheap amber liquor across the bar like he'd done it a thousand times before. Julie licked salt off her hand and knocked hers back, then coughed hard. "Jesus *fuck*, " she wheezed, slamming the glass down so loud Leah jumped. "That ain't tequila, that's gasoline." Travis just grinned and stole the lime wedge right out of her fingers. "Welcome to Texas, sweetheart." Leah sniffed hers—the smell alone made her eyes water—but Ben nudged her arm. "Blow out first, " he said. "Trust me, you don't want this shit coming out your nose." She did, and damn near choked as it burned all the way down. Julie's laugh curled around her, warm and unapologetic, while Travis thumped Ben on the back like they'd just won something.
Then the fiddle kicked up louder, and suddenly Julie's fingers were hooked in Leah's belt loop. "Dance, " she said, not asking, already pulling her toward the floor. Leah stumbled into her, hands landing on Julie's hips just as they bumped into another couple. The woman gave them a nasty look—Leah saw how her eyes stuck on Julie's hand spread low across her back—before her man tugged her away, muttering something. Leah froze, but Julie just spun her tighter, lips grazing her ear. "Fuck 'em, " she murmured, whiskey breath hot against Leah's neck. "They wish they were us." Travis hollered as he and Ben joined in, the four of them moving together under those blinking patio lights like they'd known each other for years.
When the bartender yelled last call, Julie didn't slow down—if anything, she pressed closer, grinding against Leah's leg until she gasped. "Another round, " Julie shouted past Leah's shoulder, "and make it the real shit this time." Ben sighed but waved the waitress over, while Travis slapped the table hard enough to rattle the empty glasses. "Yeah, none of that weak-ass tourist crap, " he slurred. "Gimme the mescal that'll put hair on your chest." The waitress—skinny, with nails yellowed from cigarettes—just snorted. "Not after last time, " she said, but shuffled off toward the dusty bottles behind the counter anyway.
Leah watched her walk away, her pulse jumping at the base of her throat. The whiskey had settled into a slow burn behind her ribs, but Julie’s fingers tracing lazy circles under the edge of her shirt kept her nerves buzzing. “This is a bad idea, ” Leah muttered, more out of habit than real objection. Julie chuckled, her breath warm against Leah’s ear. “Yeah, probably, ” she admitted, thumb pressing into the dip of Leah’s hip. “But when’s the last time you did something just because it felt good?” The question hit Leah like a punch to the gut. She thought of David’s rigidly planned affection, the way she’d learned to smother her own want like an annoying tickle in her throat. Across the table, Ben was watching them with a look caught between amusement and something gentler—something that made Leah’s face heat up.
The waitress came back with four mismatched shot glasses and a bottle so dusty it looked like it had grown fur. “Take ‘em or leave ‘em, ” she grumbled, slamming them down hard enough to make Leah flinch. Julie grabbed the bottle before Travis could, popping the cork with her teeth. The smell hit Leah first—like smoke, dirt, and cough syrup all mixed together. Travis groaned, leaning forward. “Now we’re talkin’, ” he said, shoving his glass toward Julie. She poured with fake seriousness, the liquid glowing gold in the dim light. Leah stared at hers, swirling in the glass like some kind of ominous potion, and briefly wondered if this was how people felt before drinking actual poison.
Ben downed his first, grimacing as he swallowed hard. “Tastes like a sweaty boot, ” he croaked, banging the glass back onto the table. Travis followed, gasping like he’d been punched in the gut. Julie tossed hers back like she was challenging the liquor to a fight, nostrils flaring as she exhaled. Leah hesitated—the guys’ reactions weren’t exactly selling it—but Julie’s fingers drummed impatiently against her thigh under the table. *Quit stalling, * that tap said. Leah threw it back before she could chicken out. Fire exploded down her throat, scorching her nose, twisting hot in her stomach. She coughed hard, eyes watering, while Julie laughed and patted her back. “That’s my girl, ” she murmured, and the pride in her voice warmed Leah more than the whiskey ever could.
The world spun sideways the second Leah stood up. Her knees buckled like a newborn deer’s, and she grabbed Julie’s sleeve to keep from face-planting onto the sticky bar floor. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. "We should—" she hiccuped, "—should find that motel before I forget how legs work." Julie smirked, all mischief, and slung an arm around Leah’s waist, yanking her close enough to feel the heat between them through their shirts. "Thanks for the whiskey and the two-stepping, boys, " she tossed over her shoulder, already dragging them toward the exit, "but somebody here needs horizontal stat." Ben gave a lazy two-finger salute. Travis tipped his hat, words slurring. "Y’all come back, now. Last time we had this much fun was when the sheriff busted up Earl’s moonshine still."
Outside, the Texas night hit Leah like a sauna—thick with heat and the smell of dirt roads and truck exhaust. Streetlights buzzed above them, stretching their shadows long as Julie hauled Leah down the sidewalk, both of them swaying like drunks in a hurricane. Leah tripped over a crack, laughing when Julie caught her, their bodies crashing together in a mess of arms and whiskey breath. "Watch it, " Julie murmured, her lips grazing Leah’s ear. "Fall for me, not the pavement." Leah’s stomach flipped, skin buzzing from the booze and the way Julie’s thigh pressed against hers.
Behind them, Ben and Travis leaned against the bar’s peeling facade, watching them go with grins. "Don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t do, " Ben drawled. Travis added, "Next round’s on us—if y’all survive the night." Julie threw a middle finger over her shoulder without looking back, her laugh echoing off the bricks. Leah waved, her arm feeling like lead, and then they turned the corner, leaving the bar’s neon glow behind. The motel’s flickering sign waited up ahead, its sickly light turning Julie’s freckles into something Leah wanted to touch, to trace like she’d imagined doing a hundred times before.
The motel clerk didn't even look up from his paper when they stumbled through the door. His name tag said *Hank*, but you could barely read it anymore—letters worn down from too many years pinned to his shirt. "Room ten, " he muttered, shoving a key across the counter without so much as glancing at them. "Forty bucks. Keep it down." Julie slapped down a wrinkled twenty and two tens, her other arm wrapped tight around Leah's waist just to keep her standing. Hank didn't give two shits about their messy hair or Leah's sweater hanging half-off. Drunks were pretty much his entire clientele after midnight. The key was still warm from his hand when Julie grabbed it, her nails scraping the cheap countertop. "Alright, genius, " she whispered against Leah's temple, steering them toward the dim hallway. "Time to lie down before you fall down."
Room ten's lock fought them like it had a personal grudge. Julie cursed under her breath, jiggling the key while Leah leaned into her, giggling at god-knows-what. The door finally gave with a loud screech, revealing a room that smelled like bleach trying—and failing—to cover up old cigarettes. Leah kicked her shoes off immediately, almost losing her balance as they went flying toward the wall. "Bed, " she announced, like she'd just solved world hunger. Julie laughed as she peeled off her own shirt, the fabric sticking to her skin with sweat. Leah watched, eyes dark and wide, as Julie struggled out of her jeans—denim catching on her hips until she finally wriggled free with a frustrated sigh. Something in Leah's chest went tight at the sight.
She reached for Julie before her brain could catch up, fingers tracing up her ribs. "You're—" Leah's words got lost in a hiccup, her hands sliding down to Julie's waist. "Jesus, you're everywhere." Julie caught her wrists, but didn't stop her—just held her gaze while Leah's hands wandered higher, over the curve of her breasts, the sharp line of her collarbones. The whiskey made Leah's touch sloppy, nails scraping skin as she pushed Julie back onto the bed. Julie went without resistance, breath catching when Leah climbed on top of her, skin against skin. "Someone's in a hurry, " Julie murmured, but the tease didn't land right—her voice already coming apart.
Leah didn't answer. Words felt impossible with the booze and heat clouding her head. She ducked down to lick a stripe up Julie's throat, tasting salt and tequila, teeth catching lightly on her jaw. Julie's hands tangled in her hair, pulling just enough to drag a groan out of her. "Look at you, " Julie breathed, hips rolling up against Leah's weight. "All that shy-girl act gone to hell." Leah bit her earlobe in revenge, drunk on the way Julie shivered. The motel sheets scratched against her knees, the air thick with sweat and the weirdly sweet smell of cheap laundry soap.
She kissed her way down Julie's body, lips brushing over each rib as Julie breathed—her skin warm against Leah's tongue. When Leah dragged her teeth just below Julie's belly button, Julie tensed, her thighs parting without thinking. Leah exhaled against the curls between her legs, fingers gripping Julie's hips. The smell hit her first—musky, warm, mixed with the sharp tang of arousal under soap and sweat. She buried her face there without hesitation, breathing deep like she wanted to remember this forever. The first lick was light, just a quick flick against Julie's folds, but Julie's gasp stole the air from Leah's lungs.
After that, she didn't hold back—flattening her tongue against Julie, drinking her in. Julie tasted like salt and heat and something Leah couldn't name but couldn't get enough of. Her nose bumped Julie's clit as she worked, and Julie jerked so hard she cracked her head against the headboard. "Fuck—" she gasped, fingers twisting in Leah's hair. Leah moaned against her, the vibration pulling another sharp sound from Julie's throat. Julie clutched the sheets, hips rolling in tight, desperate circles. Leah licked into her like she was starving—like Julie was something she'd been waiting for forever. Every noise Julie made, every shaky breath, just made Leah want more.
Julie came with her thighs shaking around Leah's head, her own hand slapped over her mouth to stifle the broken noise that escaped. Leah didn't stop—just slowed, licking softer but still relentless, until Julie whimpered and pushed at her shoulder. "Too much, " she panted, chest heaving. Leah grinned up at her, chin wet, and Julie's eyes went wide. "Oh no, " she slurred, still hazy, as Leah flipped her onto her stomach with surprising strength. "What are you—?" Leah didn't answer, just spread Julie's cheeks and licked a hot stripe right between them. Julie yelled into the mattress, back arching. "Holy fucking shit!"
The whiskey buzz couldn't dull the shock—Leah's tongue pressed flat against her ass, circling slow and deliberate. Julie grabbed fistfuls of sheets, legs trembling. "Jesus—where the hell'd you learn that?" Leah laughed against her skin, the vibration shooting straight to Julie's toes. "Wikipedia, " she deadpanned before dragging her tongue back up to Julie's slit, grinning at the way her whole body twitched. "Turns out I don't just look up cat facts." Julie choked out a laugh that turned into a moan as Leah's thumbs spread her wider.
Leah ate her out like she was trying to memorize every inch—like Julie was the last thing she'd ever taste. Her rough hands kneaded Julie's ass, pulling her closer with a hunger that left Julie gasping. When Leah's thumb brushed her asshole again, Julie's hips jerked. "Wait—" she managed, but Leah didn't stop, just pressed the tip of her thumb against that tight ring, already wet from spit and how turned on Julie was. It burned just enough to make her whimper before Leah pushed in to the first knuckle, her tongue still working Julie's clit without mercy.
Julie came so hard she saw stars, thighs clamping around Leah's head as the orgasm tore through her. Leah's thumb buried deep, her tongue never letting up—it was almost too much. Julie's vision went spotty, fingers twisting in the sheets. Leah moaned against her, and the vibration sent another shock of pleasure racing up Julie's spine until she was sobbing, body stretched tight. She could feel herself clenching around Leah's thumb, each pulse drawing a rough groan from Leah's throat.
When they finally stopped, Julie just melted into the mattress like her bones had turned to jelly. Leah crawled up her body, moving slow and clumsy like she was drunk—which she kinda was. Her lips were all swollen and shiny when she flopped onto Julie's chest with this happy little sigh, her breath hot against Julie's collarbone.
"I can't... believe you... fucked me like that, " Julie giggled, her voice totally shot. She was absently drawing circles on Leah's bare back with one finger.
Leah made this humming noise, half-asleep already. "Love your... pussy... ass... but mostly you, " she mumbled into Julie's skin, words slurring together.
Julie felt that shit right in her chest. Leah got heavier as she passed out completely, breathing slow and deep. Julie smiled, brushing some hair off Leah's face. "Love you too, " she whispered, kissing the top of her head. The words felt too big for this shitty motel room with its stale whiskey smell, but whatever.
Leah was out cold—booze and exhaustion finally winning. Julie tried to adjust without waking her. The sheets were still damp under them, the whole room smelling like sex and sweat. Some truck roared by outside, headlights flashing across the walls for a second. That stupid vacancy sign kept flickering, making shadows dance on Leah's relaxed face.
Julie touched her cheek, still warm. Even asleep, Leah looked different here—like Texas had smoothed out all her usual tension. Julie closed her eyes.
End of Part 3