Page 265 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

So he fuckin’ nods. “If that’s what you need.”

From the barstool, Jules grins wide, surprised, almost impressed with Riley. “No way, you’re really gonna…” but Riley don’t waste time, payin’ her no mind ‘cause she already knew his answer. She’s snatchin’ his hand, walkin’ him out of the kitchen, lighter on her toes.

As soon as he steps into the livin’ room, for the first time in all the years he's been doin' this shit, he’s confused about who the fuck to be. Does he stay Andrew Harding, the friend she’s known for five years, or is she expectin’ him to play the part of some cocky sonofabitch who’s obsessed with pussy and makin’ girls come?

Riley scoops up the pile of clothes and shoves them back into the hamper, the two of ‘em talkin’ low and gigglin’ as they each take an end of the couch.

“Nah. You, stay there,” he says, gesturin’ to Riley in the corner.

Then points his eyes at Jules, nudges his head. “You? In her lap.”

He removes his jacket first, then his shirt, foldin’ it and layin’ it on the backrest of the couch while sweepin’ the room for any cameras or phones out recordin’.

When he looks back at the girls, they’re still sittin’ side by side.

“What’s with the knees-together routine? This ain’t Sunday mass.”

He sets them up how he wants them—Riley's ass to the edge of the couch, and Jules sittin' on top of her—before he's sinkin' to his knees in front of 'em.

He tries to ignore how awkward this already feels.

He tries to block out the fact he knows her and pretends he don’t.

The girls don’t look uncomfortable at all.

They’re laughin’, mutterin’, “I can’t believe we’re really doin’ this.” And, “Yo—remember we talked about this back in like Jr. High. BRO, it’s happenin’.”

Their excitement’s the only thing pushin’ him to keep goin'.

He starts at the bottom, droppin' himself into the expert mindset. Figures that's where he's safest. 'Cause expert is the one mode that lives inside every role he's ever played.

He slides his palms up the inside of Riley’s thighs, guidin’ her open.

She’s got what he calls the Cherry Knot: lips thin and tight together, clit hidden under the hood. But when she’s spread like this, everything pulls back. Still gotta watch the hood, ‘cause Cherry Knots like to hide again.

“There you go.”

He bunches Jules’s shirt over her hips, spreadin’ her open next.

She’s got The Drown: low hangin’, plush lips that you can spread open for days and still not see everything. Dark, heavy folds, everything tucked deep and wet.

The Drown’s easy to fuck up if you’re stupid.

It likes to be licked open ‘cause everything hides under everything else—clit under hood, hood under folds, entrance tucked deep. Makes you slow down and work for it, so he knows he’s gotta use everything he’s got—both hands, mouth, chin, nose, jaw.

He spreads Jules with both hands, peelin’ her back to check, then catches warmth at her openin’ with his finger. “I ain’t standin’ ‘til this pussy’s soakin’ my face,” he mutters, circlin’ the rim, slickin’ the pad for a taste test. Then he locks Jules’s legs around Riley’s until he’s got them both in place—one above, one below.

He leans back on his heel to take in the scene.

“Goddamn. This is what I get tonight, huh? Spread out and fightin’ for my attention.” He avoids their eyes and lowers his head, thumb liftin’ the hood of Riley's clit as he draws closer, slidin’ his tongue up the center of her pink seam—full, flat, heavy. “Mm... How the hell am I supposed to breathe?”

Riley curses, hips risin’ with his mouth as he moves up to Jules, parts her folds and presses his tongue flat against her opening—one deep lick up, the tip of his tongue flicking her hangin’ clit once.

He tastes each of them to block ‘em out, but there’s two, and it’s overwhelming.

Minutes later, Riley's thighs are shaking.

“Oh my GOD,” she gasps. “Oh my God, that fuckin’… Fuck…”