Stitching Wounds and Breaking Hearts (Lesbian Story)

-Cigarettes and Revenge Sex-

Third Person POV

The coffee date went stiffly. A briefly warm and welcoming Carter, closed off all of her emotions and simply returned Ariana's prying questions with one-word lack-luster answers.

"How are you doing Carter?" Ariana would ask, her feet jiggling beneath the laminate wood table.

"Fine." Carter would drone, finding more interest in her phone.

"Oh that's good! I'm doing great," Ariana would answer, desperately trying to get more than two words out of the bored caffeine drinker in front of her.

"Good." Carter returned, not really seeming to care about the red-heads well-being. 

And so the mostly one-sided conversation continued for a maximum of 30 minutes. After that time, Carter drew bored, as she usually does and simply exited the cafe. No "thank you," or kiss was given to Ariana. The most she got was a blank stare as Carter mounted her bike. Without a single glance back, Carter peeled out of the Starbucks parking lot and into afternoon traffic, leaving Ariana to wish she had never even met the turquoise-haired angel to begin with.

Lacey

Devon. All I could feel was Devon. His almost too experienced hands on my breasts and his ever so magical lips touching mine.

Devon. All I could hear was Devon. His gruff tenor whispering commands in my ear to relax or show him how much I appreciated his oral with some of my own.

Devon. All I could see was Devon. His head slowly disappearing down towards my core and his tongue dipping out to taste me.

Devon. All I could taste was Devon. His salty precum disappearing on my tongue as I masterfully go down on his shaft with my mouth and then his slightly sweeter cum down my throat when he climaxes.

Devon. All I could smell was Devon. His sweat mixing with the sex-filled air of his bedroom and the smell of the cologne on his bed sheets.

The sex is magical. Skin hitting skin. My erotic screams mixing with his deep moans. The feeling of him slamming himself inside of me, over and over and over again is enough to make me climax twice. His expert hands are grazing my ribs and his lips are leaving love marks across my neck and down my spine. I feel his body quiver and I cry out in pleasure as I climax around him, only pushing him to release inside me. We both finish with a triumphant moan and collapse against his deep red sheets.

"Damn, you sure are a spitfire, you probably have Carter beat." He husks, standing to rid himself of his soiled condom.

"Y-you've fucked Carter?" My timid voice returns, no longer hidden by my confident moans and erotic screams of pleasure.

"Who hasn't!" he scoffs, crawling back onto the comforter with me.

His strong arms wrap around my torso as his lithe fingers brush against my sides. My body falls against his, my energy still non-existent. My thoughts drift unwillingly to the one person I had hoped to forget by fucking Devon. Carter.

How many people at school has she fucked? Does that mean I have a chance with her? Maybe if I show her I can get drunk and smoke I'll be accepted by her friends too!

"Hey Dev?" I question sorta confidently.

"Yeah?" he replies, his voice still gruff.

"Do you...have any cigarettes?" I say, attempting to sound more confident than I feel.

"You smoke?" he asks, taken-aback.

"Totally," I reply, internally cringing at how breathy and unconvincing  my voice sounds.

Thankfully his still sex-hazed mind was waking up so he fails to notice the change in my tone.

"Yeah, they're in the bottom drawer of my nightstand." he husks and rolls over to dig them out.

I smile nervously to myself and wring my hands.

Maybe if I don't talk about them he won't notice.

Devon rolls back around and drops a half-full pack of Marlboro Reds on my stomach. He smirks at me before pulling one out for himself. I watch as he brings the orange filter to his plump lips and grasps it between them. Devon reveals to me a black lighter he kept stored with the cigarettes and sparks it to life. The orange flame dances wildly, causing thin nicotine-smelling strips of smoke to erupt from the end of the cigarette. I inhale cautiously, not sure how my body will respond to such up close exposure.

The smell of nicotine ignites something from deep within me, similar to a light switch being flipped, I absolutely need more of this smoke in my body. I greedily inhale again and fish out a cigarette of my own. My body felt alive, more so than it does when I think of a certain turquoise-haired alcoholic. I hold the orange filter against my lips and watch as Devon sparks the lighter for me. Slowly I lean my head and tilt the end of the cigarette towards the fire. The tobacco ignites and it's only a matter of seconds before the delicious smell of rebellion fills the air.