Re: quicklog: dahlia/jeze
Dahlia, leaning forward with forearms casually dangling over the bar, turned her head at the sound of the trailer door opening. From over her shoulder, she simply gave Jeze a low look--no once-over here, but a lesiurely stroll over all that exposed skin--and smoldered pleasantly, tongue rolling over her flash of teeth. See, the truck was for running errands and hauling shit. The bike was for going out. Having fun. Making noise. Impressing girls. (Best money she ever spent, frankly.) Straddling this pet project of hers, she knew she looked good. Didn't mean affirmation went unappreciated, though.
When she returned with her jacket, Dahlia sat back expectantly--just in time for Jeze to take a detour and wiggle herself into the space between her and the bars. Instinct made her pause--a little PDA got her in serious trouble before in this town, long ago--but too late to think about that now, yeah? So she hesitated for a whole half of a second--it's fine, nobody around, right?--before the other woman leaned over, and she promptly forgot what she was worried about.
Lips met, parted softly, the taste of bubblegum on Dahlia's breath. Like an engine gone cold, a spark kicked in her gut, low and warm. Even with this firestarter straddling her sturdy thighs, the several hundred pounds of bike between them was easily managed. Her impatient hands--less so. Dahlia slipped her arms around the other woman, hands flat-palming her ass, then grabbed, pulling her off the incline of the gas tank to bodily bridge what little gap there was between their hips. Her spine arched in greeting, a faint groan against Jeze's mouth. Hungry, and wanting.
Yeah. This was exactly what she needed.
Eventually, though--Dahlia pulled back. Reluctantly. Had to come up for air sometime. Biting gently at Jeze's lower lip, she disengaged--though she kept her hands right where they were, comfortable as could be, thanks. Her boots shifted in the gravel, adjusting her wide stance around the low rider, as she bodily tucked her head beneath the other woman's chin, mouth touching the dip between collarbones. And if all that weren't a sufficient hello--
"Hey, trouble," Dahlia rumbled against her neck. Indeed. For trouble this sweet, her mood was dangerously susceptible. If this girl decided she felt like robbing a bank just for fun tonight, Dahlia would happily bring masks. "C'mon. Let's get outta here, yeah?"