One Last Time

Brandi knew better, knew every whispered excuse falling flat against the younger woman's desperate mouth. She told herself it had to stop before someone got hurt. Adriana refused to listen and showed up anyway, trembling with certainty outside the front door. They didn't make it past the entryway. Adriana sank to her knees, mouth finding the older woman's bare thigh, teeth grazing sensitive skin. Brandi opened for her, hips tilting forward without thought, and the first swipe of tongue tore every good intention loose. Fingers found heat and slipped inside, curling, seeking; Adriana whimpered against swollen flesh and sucked harder. Brandi pulled her upright, kissed her hard, tasted herself on Adriana's tongue. They staggered to the sofa, shed what remained of their clothes. Mouths left marks where fingertips later soothed. Tongue slid down sensitive skin until Adriana gasped and parted further, legs shaking. Brandi opened her, pressed two fingers deep, and the wetness sounded obscene in the quiet room. They changed places, slow grind of clit against tongue, the urgent push-pull of fingers stretching slick walls. Every moan was both a promise and apology. Closer still, breath hot, mouths locked, hands working. Their bodies locked tight and then the first rush came, pouring over fingers, across lips, soaking fabric beneath. Again and again until thighs glistened and breathing slowed to spent gasps, regret delayed but inevitable.