Girls’ Trip, No Rules — Bonus Chapter

Second Night Back
by Aurora North

⚠️ This bonus chapter contains EXPLICIT sexual content and takes place after the events of Girls’ Trip, No Rules. Spoilers ahead.

Second Night Back

The hot tub was waiting for them.

Jordan stood on the balcony of their suite — their suite, the same one, same floor, same ocean — and watched the turquoise light of the plunge pool shimmer against the ceiling while the Caribbean breathed below. Behind her, in the room, Riley was on a phone call with Ethan, laughing about something, and the sound of that laugh in this specific space was doing things to Jordan’s nervous system that she didn’t have the vocabulary for.

A year ago, she’d stood in this exact spot and thought: I am going to ruin everything this week, aren’t I?

She hadn’t ruined anything. She’d built something. And tonight, she was going to christen the rebuild.

Riley appeared in the doorway. She’d changed into a silk robe — short, dark green, tied loosely at the waist — and her hair was down and her feet were bare and she was holding two glasses of champagne and looking at Jordan with the expression that Jordan privately called the cenote face: open, undefended, luminous with wanting.

“Ethan says hi,” Riley said. “And also that we’re disgusting and he doesn’t want updates.”

“Smart man.” Jordan took the champagne. Their fingers brushed on the glass. “He definitely doesn’t want updates about what I’m planning to do to you in that hot tub.”

Riley’s eyes darkened. One shade. The shift was subtle — a dilation of pupils, a slight parting of lips — and Jordan had spent a year cataloging these shifts the way an astronomer catalogs stars, filing each one under things that make me lose my entire mind.

“What are you planning?” Riley asked.

“Get in the water and find out.”

They drank the champagne standing at the railing, looking at the ocean. The night was warm and thick with salt and jasmine and the distant thrum of music from the resort bar — the same sounds, the same air, the same sky they’d stood under a year ago when everything had been want and terror and the unbearable weight of things unsaid.

Now there was nothing unsaid. There was only this: two women on a balcony, drinking champagne, knowing exactly what was about to happen and savoring the anticipation the way you savored the last bite of something perfect.

Jordan set her empty glass on the railing. She turned to Riley.

“I want to undress you,” she said. Not a question. A statement of intent, delivered with the quiet confidence of a woman who had spent twelve months learning that the thing she wanted most in the world wanted her back.

Riley set her glass down. She stood still — not passive, but yielding. Offering.

Jordan stepped close. She lifted her hands and found the sash of Riley’s robe. Silk between her fingers, warm from Riley’s body heat.

She pulled the knot. Slowly. The sash slipped free and the robe loosened and Jordan pushed it off Riley’s shoulders — one side, then the other — and watched it fall in a green puddle at her feet.

Riley was naked underneath. No swimsuit, no underwear — just skin, golden from two days of Caribbean sun, freckles scattered across her chest and shoulders like someone had shaken a brush at her. Her nipples were hard in the warm air — not from cold but from the way Jordan was looking at her, which was with the focused, reverent hunger of a woman who had memorized this body by touch and was still not tired of looking at it.

“You planned this,” Jordan said, her voice rough.

“I packed exactly one robe and zero underwear for this evening. So yes.”

“I love you so much it’s stupid.”

“Eloquent.”

“Shut up. You’re naked.”

Riley laughed — that low, warm laugh that vibrated in her chest — and Jordan dropped to her knees on the warm tile of the balcony and pressed her mouth to Riley’s stomach.

Riley’s breath caught. Her hand found Jordan’s hair — not pulling, just holding, fingers threading through the curls, anchoring herself. Jordan kissed across the flat plane of her belly — the warm skin, the faint line of muscle, the shallow dip of her navel. She traced the ridge of Riley’s hip bone with her tongue and felt the shiver travel through Riley’s body like a current.

“Jordan—”

“I’m going to take my time,” Jordan murmured against her skin. “We have all night. And I have plans.”

“What plans?”

“Plans that involve this balcony. And that hot tub. And that bed in there. And possibly the shower. And definitely the floor.”

“That’s ambitious.”

“I’m an ambitious woman.” Jordan looked up at her — chin resting on Riley’s stomach, eyes bright, mouth curved in a grin that was equal parts adoration and mischief. “Any objections?”

“No objections,” Riley said. “Show me.”

Jordan stood and pulled her own dress over her head. No bra. She hooked her thumbs into her underwear and slid them down and stepped out of them, and they stood naked on the balcony under the Caribbean stars — two women who had spent a year building a life together and were now standing in the place where it all began.

“Hot tub,” Jordan said.

They slid into the warm water.

“Ask me the question,” Riley said. Her voice was soft. Her eyes were bright.

Jordan smiled. “Have you ever thought about kissing a girl?”

Riley straddled Jordan’s lap. One fluid motion — thighs bracketing Jordan’s hips, hands on Jordan’s shoulders, the full weight of her settling against Jordan’s body. Riley’s breasts pressed against Jordan’s — soft against soft, the nipples hardened points of contact that sent sparks down Jordan’s spine.

“I’ve done more than think about it,” Riley said, her mouth an inch from Jordan’s. “I’ve thought about fucking one in a hot tub under the stars. In this specific hot tub. Since approximately the moment we booked this trip.”

Riley kissed her. Hard. Her tongue found Jordan’s immediately, deep and demanding, and her hips kept rolling in that maddening rhythm and the friction of their bodies beneath the water was making it difficult for Jordan to form sentences.

“I’m so wet already,” Riley rasped. “I’ve been wet since dinner. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Riley’s hand slid between them. Down Jordan’s stomach, between her legs, finding her with unerring precision. Her fingers parted Jordan beneath the water and stroked — slow, firm, exactly right. She found Jordan’s clit and circled it with her thumb, and Jordan’s head fell back against the pool edge and a moan tore out of her.

“I want you to come in this water,” Riley said against her throat. “I want to watch your face when you do. The way your mouth opens. The way your eyes go dark right before. I think about that face all the time. At work. In meetings. I’ll be presenting a budget proposal and suddenly I’m thinking about the face you make when you come and I have to excuse myself to get water.”

“That’s—oh God—that’s extremely unprofessional—”

“You’ve ruined my professional life. The least you can do is come when I tell you to.”

Riley’s fingers slid inside her, two, curving upward with practiced expertise, finding the spot that made Jordan’s vision fracture.

“I don’t want it fast,” Riley murmured, her mouth trailing down Jordan’s neck. “I want it slow. I want you shaking before I let you finish.”

She did it now. Her fingers moved in a rhythm that was calculated to destroy — deep, curving strokes inside Jordan while her thumb worked her clit in slow, firm circles, building the pressure in layers. Every time Jordan got close — every time her breathing stuttered and her thighs clenched — Riley would slow down. Ease the pressure. Make Jordan whimper and chase and beg.

“Please — Ri — I need—”

“What do you need?”

“More. Harder. I need you to let me come. Please.”

“You’re so beautiful when you beg.” Riley pressed her forehead against Jordan’s. “Say it again.”

“Please. Riley. Please.“

Riley gave her what she asked for. Her fingers drove deeper, faster. Her thumb pressed firm and relentless, and Jordan came with a cry that split the night open. The orgasm crashed through her in waves — long, deep, rolling pulses that radiated outward until her fingertips tingled and her vision went white.

Riley held her through it. Fingers still inside her, lips pressed to her temple, whispering — I love you, I’ve got you, you’re everything.

“Holy shit,” Jordan managed. “You just made me come so hard I think I briefly lost citizenship. I’m stateless now. I belong to no country. Only to you.”

“Your turn,” Jordan said against her mouth. “Get on the edge.”

Riley climbed out of the water and sat on the pool’s edge — feet still submerged, legs parted, body bare and dripping in the moonlight.

“Remember the first time I did this?” Jordan said, moving through the water between Riley’s knees. She placed her hands on Riley’s thighs and spread them wider. “In the suite? Our first night?”

“You cried.”

“I did.”

“You’re not going to cry tonight. Tonight you’re going to scream.”

She didn’t start with Riley’s center. She started with the inside of her right knee. Then higher. A kiss to the middle of her inner thigh. Then higher still. The tender crease where thigh met body. She gave the same treatment to the left side — slow, deliberate, maddening — kissing everything around the place Riley needed her most until Riley’s hips were shifting on the tile and her thighs were trembling.

“Jordan, if you don’t—”

“Patience.”

“I will kill you—”

“Jordan.“

Jordan put her mouth on her.

The first stroke was broad, flat, covering everything. Riley moaned — loud, open-throated, uninhibited. In their apartment in Chicago, Riley was quiet. Here, with the ocean drowning out everything and no one to hear, the volume restriction was gone, and the difference was staggering.

She settled into a rhythm. Tongue flat and firm on Riley’s clit, working in tight, deliberate circles. Lips closing around the swollen bud and sucking. One hand pressed against Riley’s lower stomach, the other gripping her thigh, holding her open.

She added her fingers — two, sliding inside from below, curling upward, finding the ridged spot on the front wall that made Riley’s entire body convulse. She pressed it — rhythmic, insistent, matching the pace of her tongue — and Riley’s hand flew to the back of her head and fisted in her hair.

She increased the pace. Her fingers moved faster, deeper. Her tongue worked Riley’s clit with focused, unrelenting precision. She could feel Riley climbing — the progressive tension, the tightening around her fingers, the held-breath silence that meant she was right at the edge.

Jordan pulled her mouth back one inch and said: “Scream for me.”

She sealed her lips around Riley’s clit and sucked hard and pressed her fingers deep and Riley screamed. Raw, full-throated, the sound of a woman coming so hard her body forgot to censor itself. It rang off the balcony walls and out over the Caribbean.

Riley’s back arched off the tile. Her thighs clamped around Jordan’s head. Her body pulsed around Jordan’s fingers in long, rhythmic contractions.

Riley collapsed backward onto the warm tile, chest heaving.

“Jesus Christ,” Riley said.

Jordan rested her chin on Riley’s thigh and grinned. “You screamed.”

“The entire resort heard me.”

“Good. Let them hear.”

They moved to the bed. Not immediately — there was a stop on the way. Jordan pulled Riley up from the tile and kissed her, deep and dirty, letting Riley taste herself on Jordan’s mouth, and Riley pushed Jordan backward through the balcony door and into the suite.

Jordan’s back hit the wall beside the window. Riley pinned her there — hands on her wrists, pressed above her head, bodies flush from chest to thigh.

“I want to make you come again,” Riley said against her mouth. “Standing up. Right here.”

“I’ll hold you up.” Riley’s knee pressed between Jordan’s thighs, and the pressure made Jordan’s knees buckle. Riley caught her. Pinned her to the wall with her body.

Riley released Jordan’s wrists and dropped her hand between them. She found Jordan — fingers sliding through the slick heat. Jordan gasped and Riley’s fingers entered her and the angle — standing, face to face, Riley’s eyes inches from hers — was more intimate than anything they’d done before.

“Look at me,” Riley said. “Don’t close your eyes.”

Riley fucked her against the wall with her eyes open. Two fingers, then three, deep and steady, her thumb circling Jordan’s clit. She watched Jordan’s face with focused attention, adjusting in real time.

“Come for me. Let me see it.”

The orgasm hit Jordan like a freight train. Her body clenched around Riley’s fingers and she came with her eyes — she kept them open, because Riley had asked her to — locked on Riley’s face.

Riley pulled her fingers out slowly and brought them to her own mouth and licked them clean, her eyes never leaving Jordan’s.

“You taste like the ocean,” Riley said.

“That’s chlorine.”

“Don’t ruin the moment with chemistry.”

Jordan pushed Riley onto her back and straddled her hips and took her time.

She started at Riley’s mouth. Kissed her slow and deep. Then her jaw. Then her ear — teeth on the lobe, tongue tracing the shell. Riley shivered beneath her.

She reached Riley’s breasts and lingered. She knew these breasts now — the small, pale nipples that flushed pink when aroused, the exact pressure that made Riley arch, the way the left one was slightly more sensitive than the right. She took the left nipple into her mouth and sucked — gentle at first, then harder, teeth grazing, tongue flicking — and Riley’s back arched and she made a sound that Jordan filed under top ten sounds of all time.

She bit down — gently, just enough — and Riley gasped and her hips rolled beneath Jordan’s weight. Jordan pressed her thigh between Riley’s legs and rocked, and Riley moaned and ground up against her with urgency.

“I want your mouth,” Riley panted. “And your fingers. At the same time. I want to feel full.”

“A year ago you couldn’t ask for what you wanted. Now you’re giving instructions.”

“A year ago I didn’t know what I wanted. Now I do. I want you. Every way. All night.”

Jordan went down on her. She settled between Riley’s thighs and put her mouth on her. She licked into her with slow, broad strokes — the soft folds, the swollen clit, the slickness that coated Jordan’s chin and lips.

She slid two fingers inside. Riley was hot and tight and wet. Jordan curled her fingers and pressed the spot she knew by heart and Riley’s hips bucked.

She added a third finger. Slowly, carefully. There was no discomfort — just a sharp intake of breath and then a moan of more, yes, God, more — and Jordan pressed deeper, stretching her, filling her, and the sound Riley made was something beyond language.

“You’re so full,” Jordan murmured against her. “So wet. I can feel you tightening. You’re going to come so hard, aren’t you?”

Jordan pressed her tongue flat against Riley’s clit and curled all three fingers inside her and Riley shattered. The orgasm took her in waves — each one bigger than the last, her body convulsing around Jordan’s fingers, her voice rising with each crest. She gripped the headboard with one hand and Jordan’s hair with the other and she came and came and came.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Riley said.

“Then my work here is done.”

“Your work is not done. Your work has barely started.” Riley looked at Jordan with an expression that was somehow both sated and ravenous. “I believe I mentioned something about all night.”

They made good on the promise.

At midnight, Riley went down on Jordan while Jordan sat on the edge of the bed — feet on the floor, legs spread, hands braced behind her, body arched back. Riley knelt between her knees and licked her to two orgasms — the first fast and sharp, a payback for the teasing in the hot tub, the second slow and devastating, built over twenty minutes of edge-and-retreat until Jordan was begging in a language that wasn’t entirely English.

At one in the morning, Jordan pressed Riley face-down into the mattress and straddled her from behind and ground against her ass while her hand worked between Riley’s legs from underneath. The angle was new, the pressure was different, and Riley came with her face in the pillow making sounds that the pillow could not contain.

At two, they lay face to face, hands between each other’s legs, and built each other up in tandem — matching rhythms, matching breath, watching each other’s faces in the gray half-light. They came together — or close enough, within seconds of each other — and the simultaneity of it, the shared wave, was the most intimate thing either of them had ever experienced.

At three-thirty, they took a shower. The rain head poured warm water over them and Jordan pushed Riley against the tile wall and fingered her with the water streaming over both of them, and Riley came with her face turned up to the spray, mouth open, water on her lips and Jordan’s name in her throat.

At four, exhausted and wrung out and dripping, they collapsed into bed and lay tangled together in the damp sheets and breathed.

Jordan woke first.

The room was pale with early morning light. Riley was asleep on her chest. Her breathing was slow and even and trusting.

She pressed her lips to Riley’s hair and breathed her in. Clean and warm. Sex and salt. The herbal shampoo. The smell of their life together.

She thought about the pact. No rules. No judgment. Do whatever feels good.

What it was, it turned out, was everything. Not a vacation fling. Not a phase. Everything. The real thing. The thing that lasted, that grew, that got better and messier and louder and more complicated and more joyful with every passing month.

The best trip of our lives. Both times.

Riley stirred. Her eyes opened and she saw Jordan looking at her and smiled. The first smile of the day. The best one.

“No rules?” Jordan whispered.

Riley pulled her closer. Kissed her forehead. Her nose. The corner of her mouth.

“Just one,” Riley said. “You’re mine.”

Jordan smiled against her skin.

The ocean breathed. The sun climbed. The day opened like a door, and they walked through it together — into the light, into the warmth, into the beautiful, imperfect, incandescent life they’d built from a pact that was always bullshit and a love that was always real.

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