This story has been set to a rating of PG-13. Age verification is required to proceed.
Nicky’s smirk broadens. She keeps up with the motions, trying to make the orgasm last longer. Yet, after a few seconds, she sees that it’s faded away as her wife’s body slowly untenses itself. Her lips touch right above where hands lie; she pulls her two fingers out and decides to have another go—hoping to reignite the pleasure.
A half-hour later, the two are jolted out of their love-making session by the exasperating ring of the oven’s alarm. Lorna quickly jumps up from the couch and runs into the kitchen. She rapidly takes the tray from the oven, turning it off, and sets it on the counter. Her hands cover her face in frustration at the darkened edges that sit around the pan. She grits her teeth in a fury, letting out an infuriating grunt.
Nicky rushes in shortly after; her arms wrap lovingly around the seething woman’s waist from behind. She rests her head against the other’s and pecks her cheek affectionately, ”It’s okay, sweetie. That’s why there’s pizza shops, yeah?”
”No, it’s not okay! This was supposed to a romantic evening—we were gonna have a nice homemade Italian dinner and drink the fancy wine my mom used to get for her and dad and sit by candlelight! But now it’s all ruined! This stupid fucking lasagna is burnt and nasty and—”
”Stop, just stop,” the older woman soothes, leaning her forehead lovingly onto Lorna’s. Her lips stroke warmly over the other’s. She gazes compassionately into her brown orbs and caresses a thumb lightly along her face. ”Nothing’s ruined, Lorna. We still have each other and a beautiful table waiting for us. All we needa to do is order a pizza. I don’t need all the fancy romance shit, kid, that’s not important to me. You are what’s important—being able to spend time with you and love is the only damn thing I need. Fuck. I can’t believe you made yourself go through all this trouble today thinking ya had to—you’re too much, doll.”
An instinctive pout edges its way to the surface. ”But it’s Valentine’s Day, Nicky. The one day a the year that everyone tries to make perfect and I was this fucking close to getting it that way,” she sulks, glaring over at the burnt pan of Italian cuisine.
Pulling her closer, Nicky moves a strand strip of hair from her face and shakes her head. ”It’s already perfect. We’re here, together, and we love each other. We don’t need all that bullshit they advertise on TV; we just need to know that our love is true and never going anywhere. You need to stop doing this to yourself every year, baby. All I ever want for Valentine’s Day is to have you in my arms when I get home. Fuck fancy food and wine; you’re better than all a that.”
Lorna can’t stop the smile that slowly forms at her lover’s affectionate words. She nuzzles her head tenderly against the other’s chest and pecks it softly, ”I love you so much, hon. Ya always say the sweetest things. Guess it’d be okay to just order a pizza and curl up on the couch together.”
”That’s my girl,” the redhead murmurs, hugging her head tight against her chest while stroking a hand through her wavy dark hair. ”I mean we can sit at the table and eat the pizza since you put so much time into perfecting it. Sweet little thing; I love you too, doll.”