Penthouse Stakes & City Lights

Topanga came first.

It wasn't even close. Maya and Aubrey had been working her over in tandem. Aubrey's mouth on her clit, Maya's fingers curled inside her and Topanga had lasted maybe ninety seconds before her hips bucked up off the lounge chair and she grabbed Aubrey's head with both hands and came with a groan that sounded like it was pulled from somewhere deep in her chest. Riley, who'd been behind Topanga rolling her nipples between her fingers, felt the whole body shudder against her and laughed against Topanga's neck. "First," Topanga said, breathless. "I'm first. I don't pay for anything."
"That just means you're out," Maya said, sitting back on her heels. "The last person to come wins." "The last person to come pays for dinner," Riley corrected.

"Same thing. If I'm out, I can't lose." Topanga slid off the lounge chair and picked up the prosecco bottle. She took a long swig and wiped her mouth. "Who's next?" Aubrey stood up, her chin slick, her green eyes sharp. She looked at Maya. She looked at Riley. "I think," she said slowly, "that Maya needs to be taken down a peg." Maya raised an eyebrow. "I think you need to mind your own business." "New rule," Aubrey said. She picked up the bowl from where Maya had set it on the ground and pulled out a slip of paper. She didn't read it. She wrote on the back of it with a pen she'd apparently been carrying this whole time, tucked behind her ear, and held it up.

*Maya on the chair. Everyone else gets one minute each. No coming allowed. "That's not from the bowl," Riley said. "It's a bonus dare," Aubrey said. "I'm making it one."
Topanga laughed. "I approve." Maya felt her stomach tighten. Not with fear. With something hotter. "You can't just invent dares." "I just did." Aubrey stepped toward her. She was taller by several inches, and she used every one of them, looking down at Maya with that particular expression she got when she knew she was in control. "On the chair, Matthews-Hunter." Maya looked at Riley. Riley was grinning, her brown eyes bright, her lower lip caught between her teeth. She wasn't going to help. She was enjoying this.

"Fine." Maya sat on the lounge chair. The vinyl was warm from Topanga's body. She leaned back, her blond hair falling behind her, her feet flat on the concrete, her knees apart. "One minute each. I can handle that." "We'll see," Topanga said. She set a timer on her phone. "One minute. Starting now." Topanga went first. She knelt between Maya's legs and put her mouth on her without any preamble. No teasing, no warmup, just her tongue flat against Maya's pussy in one long stroke that made Maya's hips jerk. Topanga knew what she was doing. She'd learned it over months of these games, had memorized the specific combination that made Maya's thighs shake. Two fingers inside, curved forward, tongue working the left side of her clit in tight circles. Maya grabbed the arms of the lounge chair and held on. Sixty seconds. She could last sixty seconds.

Topanga's fingers found the spot and pressed. Maya's breath caught. She stared up at the dark sky and the pinprick stars and the glow of the city reflecting off the underside of clouds and she did not come. The timer went off. Topanga pulled away, her lips wet, and smiled. "One down," she said. Aubrey took Topanga's place. She didn't kneel. She bent at the waist, her tall frame folding over, and she used her fingers instead of her mouth. Two fingers, slow, dragging in and out while her thumb found Maya's clit and pressed in a rhythm that was the opposite of Topanga's — irregular, unpredictable, fast then slow then fast again. Maya's hips moved against her will. Her body wanted to chase the sensation, wanted to grind against Aubrey's hand, and she had to fight it, had to hold herself still while Aubrey's green eyes watched her from above with something that looked a lot like satisfaction. "You're close," Aubrey said. "I'm not."
"Your pussy is clenching around my fingers like it's trying to pull them deeper." "I'm not close." The timer went off. Aubrey withdrew her fingers slowly, deliberately, and Maya felt every millimeter of the exit. She exhaled through her teeth.

"Two down," Aubrey said. She licked her fingers. Riley stepped forward. Maya looked at her wife and saw something she recognized, that particular gleam in Riley's brown eyes that meant she was about to do something cruel and enjoy every second of it. Riley knelt between Maya's legs. She put her hands on Maya's thighs and pushed them wider. She leaned in close, close enough that Maya could feel her breath on her skin, and she didn't touch her. She just breathed. "Riley." "Mm-hmm." "That's not — you have to —"
"One minute," Riley whispered. "That's the rule. One minute each. Nobody said I had to touch you."

Maya made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a groan. Her body was wound tight, every nerve singing from Topanga's mouth and Aubrey's fingers, and now Riley was just kneeling there, her face inches from Maya's pussy, breathing warm air against it, and it was worse than being touched. It was so much worse. Maya could feel her own wetness, could feel how swollen she was, could feel the ache building and building with nothing to release it against. "Thirty seconds," Topanga called from the sidelines, her phone in her hand. Riley leaned in and pressed her lips to the inside of Maya's thigh. Just her lips. Soft, gentle, nowhere near where Maya needed them. Maya's thigh muscle jumped under the contact. "Fifteen seconds."

Riley's tongue flicked out. One quick, barely-there stroke across Maya's clit that lasted maybe half a second and sent a jolt through Maya's entire body. Maya's hips came off the chair. Her hands gripped the armrests so hard the plastic creaked. "Time," Topanga said. Riley sat back on her heels, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. Maya was shaking. Not coming, not even close to the edge anymore. Riley had pulled her back from it with surgical precision. But shaking, her body strung out and confused and furious. "You're a monster," Maya said to Riley. "You love me." "That's not mutually exclusive."

Aubrey was already writing something on the back of another slip. She held it up. Maya stands at the railing. Hands behind her back. Riley holds her still. Aubrey does whatever she wants for two minutes. "That's not, you can't keep targeting me," Maya said. "I can if Topanga keeps approving them." Aubrey looked at Topanga. Topanga raised her prosecco bottle in a toast. "Approved." Maya stood up from the lounge chair. Her legs were unsteady. She walked to the railing that bordered the rooftop garden and gripped it with both hands behind her back, the metal bar cold against her wrists and forearms. The city was below her, all those lights and windows, and she was standing there naked and flushed and so turned on she could feel her pulse between her legs.

Riley stepped behind her. She wrapped her arms around Maya's waist from behind and held her. Not tight, but firm enough that Maya couldn't move forward or back. Maya could feel Riley's breasts against her shoulder blades, could feel Riley's breath on the back of her neck. Aubrey approached from the front. She stood in front of Maya, close enough that their bodies almost touched, and she looked down at Maya with those green eyes. Then she reached between Maya's legs with one hand and slid two fingers inside her.

Maya's breath hissed out. After the edging, after the teasing, the sudden fullness was almost too much. Aubrey's fingers were long and they went deep, and she curled them forward immediately, finding the spot that Topanga had already been working, the spot that Riley had been avoiding, and she pressed against it with a steady, relentless pressure. "Two minutes," Topanga said, starting the timer. Aubrey's thumb found Maya's clit. She didn't circle it. She pressed down and held, a flat, constant pressure that made Maya's vision blur at the edges. Her fingers kept moving inside. Slow, and deliberate thrusts that dragged against the front wall of Maya's pussy with each stroke.
Maya's knees buckled. Riley caught her, held her up, her arms tightening around Maya's waist. "I've got you," Riley murmured against her ear. "Don't fall." "I'm not going to fall, I'm going to, fuck —" Aubrey added a third finger. The stretch was real, the fullness overwhelming, and Maya's body clenched around her involuntarily. Aubrey smiled. It was a small, precise smile, the smile of someone who had planned this.

"One minute," Topanga called. Aubrey started moving faster. Her thumb began to circle Maya's clit, still pressing down, but now with motion, and the combination, the internal pressure, the external stimulation, the stretch, Riley's body pressed warm against her back, Riley's mouth near her ear was building Maya toward something enormous and undeniable. "Don't come," Aubrey said. Her voice was quiet, almost conversational. "The dare said I do whatever I want. It didn't say you get to come."
"You, you can't —" "I can." Aubrey's fingers thrust deep and held. Her thumb pressed down hard on Maya's clit and stayed there. Maya felt the orgasm building, felt it gathering at the base of her spine, felt it climbing, and she wanted it so badly she could taste it, and it was right there, right at the edge, and Aubrey held her there. Held her exactly at the edge. Didn't push her over. Didn't let her fall back. "Time," Topanga said.

Aubrey pulled her hand away. Maya made a sound that she would later be embarrassed about, a high, thin, desperate sound, the sound of someone who had been held at the brink and then abandoned there. Her body convulsed once, a dry orgasm or an almost-orgasm or something that didn't have a name, just a full-body spasm that left her gasping against Riley's arms. "God damn it, Aubrey." Aubrey licked her fingers. "You said you were going to win." "I am going to win." "You can barely stand."

Riley was laughing against Maya's neck, her arms still around her waist, and Maya could feel Riley's nipples hard against her back, could feel how much this was turning Riley on, and the anger and the arousal and the love all tangled together in her chest until she couldn't separate them. "New dare," Maya said. Her voice was hoarse. She pulled away from the railing and turned around. Riley was right there, flushed and grinning, her pupils blown wide, her lips parted. Maya looked at her. She looked at her wife, naked on a rooftop, turned on by watching Maya get tortured, and something clicked into place.

"New dare," Maya said again. She picked up the bowl and the pen. She wrote on the back of a slip and held it up. Riley sits on the lounge chair. I use my mouth. Nobody else touches either of us. No time limit. Riley comes when I decide she comes. "That's not a dare," Aubrey said. "That's a declaration of war." "It's a dare," Topanga said, reading it again. "It's in the bowl format. It's approved." Riley looked at the slip. She looked at Maya. Her throat moved as she swallowed. "Okay," she said.

Maya took Riley's hand and led her to the lounge chair. Riley sat. Maya pushed her shoulders back until she was reclining, her hips at the edge of the chair, her legs falling open. Maya knelt between her legs and looked up at her wife. "This is payback," Riley said. There was no fear in her voice. Only anticipation. "This is whatever I want it to be." Maya put her hands on Riley's thighs and pushed them wider. She leaned in and blew a stream of warm air across Riley's pussy, the same trick Riley had used on her, and she watched Riley's stomach muscles clench.

"Two can play that game," Riley said, but her voice was already breathy. Maya put her mouth on Riley. Not teasingly. Not gradually. She sealed her lips around Riley's clit and sucked, her tongue moving in rapid side-to-side flicks that she knew drove Riley insane. Riley's hips came off the chair immediately and Maya pressed them back down with her forearms across Riley's thighs, pinning her. "Fuck — Maya —"

Maya didn't respond. She kept her mouth exactly where it was, kept the rhythm exactly the same, and she felt Riley's body respond — the trembling in her thighs, the wetness increasing against Maya's chin, the way Riley's breathing went ragged and shallow. She could feel how close Riley was getting, could read the signals she'd memorized over years of being with this woman, and she pulled back. Riley whimpered. Maya waited. She watched Riley's chest heave, watched the flush spread down from her neck to her sternum, watched her fingers grip the edges of the lounge chair. Then she put her mouth back.

She brought Riley to the edge three times. Three times she felt the orgasm gather, felt Riley's thighs tense and her breathing stop and her body start to arch, and three times she pulled away. By the third time, Riley was making sounds that weren't words — just open-mouthed, broken noises that echoed off the garden walls and disappeared into the city. "Please," Riley said. Her voice cracked on the word. Maya looked up at her. Riley's eyes were wet, her face flushed, her lips bitten red. She was the most beautiful thing Maya had ever seen. "Please what?" "Please let me come."

Maya put her mouth back. This time she used everything, her tongue on Riley's clit, two fingers inside her curved against the front wall, her other hand pressing flat on Riley's lower abdomen. She felt Riley's body climb, felt the tension build past the point of return, and she didn't stop. She kept going, kept her tongue moving, kept her fingers thrusting, and Riley came with a sound that was almost a scream, her whole body locking up off the chair, her thighs clamping around Maya's head, her hands leaving the chair and grabbing Maya's hair and pulling so hard that Maya's eyes watered.

Maya rode it out. She kept her mouth on Riley through every pulse, through every aftershock, through the moment when Riley's body went rigid and then liquid, until Riley was pushing her head away with shaking hands and gasping for air. Maya sat back on her heels. Her face was soaked. Her jaw ached. Her own body was still wound up from Aubrey's teasing, still thrumming with unspent energy, and she didn't care. She looked at Riley, sprawled and wrecked on the lounge chair, and she felt a fierce, possessive satisfaction that had nothing to do with the game.

"Well," Topanga said from across the rooftop. She and Aubrey had been watching. Of course they'd been watching. "I think we have a winner." "Riley came," Aubrey pointed out. "So Riley loses." "Riley was the target," Maya said, standing up. Her knees cracked. "The dare was about what I decided. I decided she comes. I won." "That's a stretch," Aubrey said. "That's the rules." Topanga laughed. She finished the prosecco and set the bottle down with a hollow clink. "Dinner for a month. That's what the original dare said. Last person to come pays." She looked at Maya. "You haven't come since the terrace."
"Correct." "So you haven't lost." "Correct." "And Riley just came." "Correct." "So who pays for dinner?" Maya looked at Riley, who was still lying on the lounge chair with her arm over her eyes, breathing in slow, deliberate gulps. Then she looked at Aubrey, who was standing with her arms crossed, her green eyes narrowed, her body still flushed from her own orgasm in the armchair earlier. Then she looked at Topanga, who was smiling the smile of someone who had engineered this entire evening and was pleased with the results.

"Nobody's paid for dinner yet," Maya said. "Aubrey came in the armchair. Riley came on the chair. Topanga came first on the rooftop. I haven't come since the terrace." "So you win," Topanga said. "I win." Aubrey uncrossed her arms. "Not yet." She walked to the bowl, picked up the pen, and wrote something. She held it up. *Final dare. Maya gets on the lounge chair. All three of us. No stopping until she comes. Then she pays for dinner. "That's the opposite of winning," Maya said. "You declared victory," Aubrey said. "This is the victory lap." Maya looked at Riley. Riley had moved her arm from her eyes and was looking at Maya with an expression that was part challenge, part devotion, part something else entirely. Riley sat up slowly, swung her legs off the lounge chair, and stood. She walked to Maya, took her face in both hands, and kissed her. Long, slow, deep. Maya could taste herself on Riley's lips from earlier, could taste Riley on her own tongue, could taste the whole tangled evening in that kiss.

"You already won," Riley whispered against her mouth. "Now let us lose with you." Maya lay down on the lounge chair. The vinyl was warm from Riley's body. She felt the night air on her skin, felt the city watching, felt the three of them arrange themselves — Riley at her mouth, kissing her, swallowing her sounds. Topanga between her legs, that knowing tongue finding her clit immediately. Aubrey beside her, hands on Maya's breasts, fingers rolling her nipples, mouth on her neck.

It didn't take long. Her body had been on the edge for so long that the first sustained contact broke something open. Topanga's tongue was relentless, precise, exactly the rhythm Maya needed, and Aubrey's fingers on her nipples sent sparks straight down through her body to meet the pleasure building between her legs, and Riley's mouth on hers swallowed every sound she made until the sounds became too big to swallow and Maya came against Topanga's mouth with a moan that Riley caught and held and kept.
The orgasm was enormous. It rolled through her in waves, each one deeper than the last, and she felt her body arch off the chair and felt three sets of hands hold her down and she came until there was nothing left, until she was empty and shaking and laughing, actually laughing, because it was so much and so good and so ridiculous that four grown women had turned a penthouse weekend into an erotic tournament with prosecco and a fishbowl of dares.

"Fine," Maya said, when she could breathe. "I'll pay for dinner." "You already won," Riley said, lying beside her now, one leg thrown over Maya's, her head on Maya's shoulder. "Then I'm buying victory dinner." Maya stared up at the sky. "For a month."
Aubrey picked up the prosecco bottle, found it empty, and set it back down. "Next weekend," she said. "Same bowl. New dares." Topanga wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grinned. "I'll write them."

Maya felt Riley's laugh against her ribs before she heard it, and she pulled her closer, and the city glowed below them, indifferent and beautiful, and the bowl sat on the concrete with its remaining slips fluttering in the breeze like promises nobody intended to keep.