Nata and Zazie collide again in the upstairs hallway. Nata’s stolen blouse hangs open on Zazie’s body, two buttons popped, one hanging by a thread. "Give it back," Nata hisses, grabbing for the fabric. Zazie knocks the hand away and leans in until their mouths are a breath apart. "Make me," she whispers, lips grazing Nata’s ear. Heat ripples through the air. They shove, twist, mouths find each other harder than they should. Tongues fight. Teeth catch lower lips. Nata’s palm slides up Zazie’s thigh, finds the damp cotton between her legs, presses two fingers against the soaked spot. Zazie moans into the kiss, hips rocking. Fingers slip under the thin strip of fabric, push inside slick heat. Zazie bucks, legs shaking, comes with a choked cry against Nata’s neck. She drops to her knees, tugs Nata’s shorts down, buries her tongue in wet folds. Nata grips the banister, thighs trembling, breath ragged. They leave bruises—teeth marks on inner thighs, fingerprints on hips. Later they lie tangled on the bed, sweat cooling on skin. Zazie traces the bite she left on Nata’s breast. "Don’t leave," she murmurs. Nata’s silence stretches long. Zazie’s hand stills. She sits up, eyes hard. "You were going to leave me." The words cut like glass. The next blow lands. They roll again, this time no mouths, only open palms and broken words. Zazie pins Nata’s wrists, thighs straddling her ribs, hips grinding hard, anger and want knotted together until both women break apart shaking and raw.
Nata and Zazie collide again in the upstairs hallway. Nata’s stolen blouse hangs open on Zazie’s body, two buttons popped, one hanging by a thread. "Give it back," Nata hisses, grabbing for the fabric. Zazie knocks the hand away and leans in until their mouths are a breath apart. "Make me," she whispers, lips grazing Nata’s ear. Heat ripples through the air. They shove, twist, mouths find each other harder than they should. Tongues fight. Teeth catch lower lips. Nata’s palm slides up Zazie’s thigh, finds the damp cotton between her legs, presses two fingers against the soaked spot. Zazie moans into the kiss, hips rocking. Fingers slip under the thin strip of fabric, push inside slick heat. Zazie bucks, legs shaking, comes with a choked cry against Nata’s neck. She drops to her knees, tugs Nata’s shorts down, buries her tongue in wet folds. Nata grips the banister, thighs trembling, breath ragged. They leave bruises—teeth marks on inner thighs, fingerprints on hips. Later they lie tangled on the bed, sweat cooling on skin. Zazie traces the bite she left on Nata’s breast. "Don’t leave," she murmurs. Nata’s silence stretches long. Zazie’s hand stills. She sits up, eyes hard. "You were going to leave me." The words cut like glass. The next blow lands. They roll again, this time no mouths, only open palms and broken words. Zazie pins Nata’s wrists, thighs straddling her ribs, hips grinding hard, anger and want knotted together until both women break apart shaking and raw.
