Chapter Text
“Fuck me,” the plea whispered into her hand as she placed the vibrator on that perfect spot. “Fuck fuck fuck,” she called out as quietly as she could. She was sharing a room for God’s sake, she had to calm down. She looked down at the vibrator against her folds and gave a breathy moan again.
It took a while to decide whether or not she should bring it. It’s not like the decision wasn’t encouraged at home, she was sure her husband wanted something to happen between her and Angela more than Angela did. She thinks so at least. She did assure him the only person she’d be using it on was herself, and then that led to other fun ideas which made the subject drop quickly. All of this which led her here. In the bathroom of her and Angela’s shared hotel room, half laying across the counter with her favorite vibrator buzzing between her legs. She knew it was risky, but Angela was sleeping. She didn’t even know Amanda had gotten back from dinner yet. Earlier in the night Angela had said something about wanting to go to bed early, grabbed her dinner and left quickly.
God, she looked so good tonight. Amanda loved when she did her make up all dark like that. Her outfit was simple but so unbelievably sexy. A loose cropped barely buttoned button down. You could see the lace bra peeking out, it just wasn’t fair.
Another strangled moan leaves her throat and she feels so pent up she might cry. Just because H approved of her exploring her sexuality didn’t make the taste of guilt leave her mouth when she thought about what it would be like to run her tongue in between her best friend’s breasts. To grab a fistful of hair and wonder what those lips would look like working so hard in between her legs. It was an image she was quite familiar with and while the arousal won out every time, the guilt always washed over her like a heavy blanket.
She moved the tip of the toy a little to the left and gasped for air she didn’t realize she was missing. God, she was so close. If she just came then maybe the thoughts would go away, and she’d be free for another night. It wasn’t the best solution but it was always better than letting it fester.
Angela was—no is—her best friend. Why would she ruin that? Her mind wonders again, frustratingly so, to what it would be like if Angela got angry with her. Told her she was disgusting for wanting what she wanted. She’s straight for fucks sake. Wasn’t she? Isn’t she? She said she’d try it, maybe, but that was just for the cameras. She wasn’t supposed to fucking mean it.
Another deep breath, and a promise to move on to more pleasant things. Come on, Amanda, get a fucking grip. This was taking too long, if she wasn’t careful she’d still be doing this when Angela wakes up in the morning. Looking like an angel while she is a sweaty mess with tears streaking down her face begging to cum… okay that actually wasn’t an awful image but it wasn’t the goal right now. She propped a leg on the edge of the tub and let her ass rest against the bathroom counter before taking a minute to slow down. A hand wandered up to her breasts, slow and steady. Images flashed in her mind of paler hands than hers grasping at her. Lips trailing down and down and down. Maybe even pinning her arms above her head. That was a fun thought. Fucking her with a strap? She was getting so filthy.
Okay, what usually works? Angela under her. Kissing Angela on the couch during movie night. Angela on top of her. She lets out another pained moan. Tears prickling her eyes. Fuck, she had to fucking cum or she was going to die.
Another breath. Finally, she imagined Angela’s hips strapped. Something long and gorgeous attached pumping in and out of her. She dipped her fingers inside and bit down on the inside of her cheek. The iron on her tongue wasn’t going to stop this. Not tonight. Tonight she would finish. Another image of kissing, teeth clashing and tongue touching. Rough and primal like they’d been waiting life times to do this. Barely missing each other each time, always coming back but never quite finishing the job. With that image, Amanda feels the tightness in her core. She was going to do it, it was going to happen.
Suddenly, the bathroom door creeks open and a shocked Angela is staring straight at her. With a soft cry of surprise, Amanda yells Angela’s name and the dam that has been building breaks. Her eyes shut tight and she’s not even sure if Angela’s still standing there. She sinks to the floor on wobbly legs before coming to. The door is shut tight, Angela is gone, and she seriously considers what it would be like to sleep in a bathtub instead of facing what just happened. She could do that, right? Run away. Hide. Never see anyone ever again. The shame and guilt built up and the tears that had prickled her eyes started to actually fall. What the fuck was she supposed to say?