Luisa started, because she knew what Bel liked, and Amy watched, learning, seeing how Luisa moved her mouth on Bel’s body, the places she went, the reactions she drew. Bel was less restrained than Amy had expected, more vocal, her poise dissolving as Luisa’s tongue found the spots she knew from years of practice.
“Right there,” Bel breathed, one hand gripping the sheet, the other in Luisa’s hair. “God, you always know exactly…” Her hips shifted and she let out a moan. “Don’t you dare stop.”
Amy moved closer, her mouth on Bel’s neck, one hand on her breast, and she felt the moment Bel noticed the additional sensation… a sharp intake of breath, a turn of her head to look at Amy with eyes that were brighter than before.
“You,” Bel said to Amy, her voice more breathless than before, “are going to be trouble. I can tell.”
“Good trouble?”
“The worst kind.” Bel pulled Amy in for a kiss, fierce and hungry, biting gently at Amy’s lower lip, and Amy felt it like an electric shock all the way through her body.
“Can you show me what she likes?” Amy asked Luisa. Luisa’s eyes widened and Bel let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a moan.
Luisa took Amy’s hand and slipped it between Bel’s legs, showing her the pressure, the rhythm, the spots that made Bel’s breathing change. “Here,” Luisa murmured, “and then when she’s close, like this.” She adjusted Amy’s fingers and Bel’s hips jerked.
“God,” Bel muttered, “you’re giving her lessons? That’s… oh God, that’s good.”
“She’s a fast learner,” Luisa said, grinning at Amy.
“Let me,” Amy said, and Luisa rolled to one side, settling back on one elbow with her wine glass, watching with obvious enjoyment as Amy took over.
Amy combined what Luisa had just shown her with the techniques she’d honed over recent months, first with her fingers and then, moving herself lower, with her tongue. She teased Bel, built her up and let her down, a rhythm learned from doing this with both Sarah and Luisa.
Bel, it turned out, wasn’t shy about directing. “Harder,” she said at one point, her hand tight in Amy’s hair. “And you can use your fingers at the same time, I’m not… oh fuck.” She broke off as Amy did exactly that, two fingers sliding inside her while her tongue kept working. “Oh, that’s very good. Don’t stop doing that.” She paused. "Oh, that's very good indeed."
Amy didn’t stop. She could feel Bel building, could feel her body tensing, could hear her breathing growing ragged, andthen Bel came with a cry that she made no attempt to muffle, her hips rising off the bed, one hand clenched in the sheet and the other still in Amy’s hair. It was nothing like the controlled, untouchable woman who’d been leaning against the bar three hours ago.
Amy didn’t let her recover. She softened her touch but kept going, her tongue gentle, coaxing, and within a minute Bel was building again, faster this time.
“She’s going to…” Bel started, talking to Luisa as if Amy weren’t there, “is she always… oh, fuck…” and she came again, her body shaking, a moan that broke down into breathless laughter.
Amy kept on going, relentless, feeling Bel’s body respond again and again, a third, a fourth, Bel getting louder each time, her upper-class composure completely demolished, saying things that would have made her boarding school teachers faint.
“Fucking hell,” Bel gasped after the fifth, actually pushing Amy’s head away because she couldn’t take any more, her body shaking. “Stop, please, I beg you. You’re going to kill me.”
Amy climbed back up the bed, pleased with herself, and Bel looked at her with genuine shock. “Luisa,” she said, still catching her breath, “where on earth did you find this goddess?”
Luisa, who'd been watching all this time with her wine, laughed. “A nightclub in West Hollywood.”
“Good God.” She looked at Amy. “If you’re ever at a loose end in London, I live in Belgravia and I have a very comfortable bed. I’m serious.”
Amy grinned.
“I really am serious,” Bel added, and Amy realised that she actually meant it.
***
They ended up on the balcony, all three of them, naked in the warm night air, sharing another bottle of wine that Bel had got dressed and wandered down to the bar for. The stars were out in full and the sea was dark and calm below them. Their only concession to modesty was that they left the lights off, but it was fine anyway… the balcony was private.
“I’m never going back to England,” Amy announced. “I’m going to stay here forever. I’ll live on this balcony and I’ll eat Italian food, and neither of you are allowed to leave.”
“She’s a romantic,” Bel said to Luisa.
“She really is.”
“One of her many qualities, if the last hour is anything to go by.” Bel stretched her legs out on the railing and took a sip of wine. “You two are a good match. I mean that.”
“Thank you,” Luisa said, and Amy could hear that the compliment from Bel meant more than if it had been from anyone else. Bel was the person who’d known Luisa the longest in this context, who’d seen her through years of casual hookups and professional engagements, and her blessing, because that’s what it was, mattered.
