Redheads have more fun!

Julia Ann steps into the bedroom still dressed for work, heels clicking once before she kicks them off. Bree looks up from her screen—red hair loose around her shoulders, laptop balanced on her knees. Julia crosses the room without a word, presses her mouth to Bree’s, and the younger woman’s fingers still on the keys. Their tongues meet, slow and wet, and Bree tastes the faint trace of wine Julia had after closing. She shuts the laptop. Clothes come away in short tugs. Julia stretches back on the sheets; Bree follows, hungry. She kisses the soft skin above silk stocking tops, then lower, until her mouth closes over the soft, bare heat between Julia’s legs. Julia’s breath catches, hips lift. She pulls Bree up by the hair, turns her, and returns the favor—tongue stroking firmly, hands gripping Bree’s ass to keep her close. They keep at it until the room smells like sweat and perfume, until both women are shaking. Bree comes first, face pressed into Julia’s thigh, then Julia follows with a low, satisfied moan that fills the quiet bedroom. Bree finally reaches for the laptop again, skin flushed, breath still uneven. The story about Lefty Lumaban waits; her mind is clearer now.