Don't Be Afraid

Mona Wales checks the time, thighs pressed together. She has been counting the minutes until her next appointment with Sarah Banks. The door opens and Sarah steps in, close-cropped hair framing her smooth face, eyes glittering with nerves that shift into hunger the moment they lock onto Mona. By the end of the hour Sarah is trembling, but the fear she used to grip has vanished. She leans across the desk, breath catching when Mona’s mouth meets hers, the kiss deep and unhurried, tongues sliding, wet and urgent. Mona's hand slips beneath silk and lace, fingers slick with the younger woman’s heat. She drops to her knees, spreads Sarah open, and licks her glistening folds until Sarah's thighs clamp around her head, hips bucking, voice cracking as orgasm crashes through her. Sarah spins Mona onto the couch, peeling away every layer, lips tracing taut nipples, the dip of a navel, then the soft rise of Mona's clit. She circles once, twice, sucks, until Mona’s breath stutters and her fingers twist into Sarah’s hair, climax tearing a low cry from her throat. They lie on the carpet, breathing hard, legs tangling. Two sets of fingers disappear between creamy thighs, finding soaked, tight heat. They work each other with steady, pumping thrusts until the second, harsher wave hits—louder moans, tighter grips, slick juices coating knuckles. Then stillness. The room smells of sweat and satisfaction, their pulses thudding hard enough to feel in each other's skin. Therapy has never landed them here before, and they both know they’ll be right back next week.