Night Breed - Part 3

Christy Canyon’s mouth is on Jill Kelly’s, warm and slow, tongues sliding lazy while hands map whatever they can reach. They sink back against the pillows, legs slipping apart, and it’s all heat and slick skin. Fingers find nipples and tug. Mouths drift lower, tasting salt, tracing the soft give of bellies. Christy spreads Jill open, tongue pressing hot and wet. Jill rocks up into it, hips rolling, breath catching on every stroke. Her fingers tangle in Christy’s hair, pulling her closer, until the rhythm tightens and everything narrows to that one merciless point of contact. Sweat blooms. Thighs tremble. The room is nothing but the sound of them giving in.