The New Devil In Miss Jones - Part 6

Savanna folded open. Legs wide. Jenna's mouth found her. Slow and wet. Savanna answered with a low sound that caught in her throat. Fingers curled into skin. Two bodies finding the same rhythm on white sheets, light moving over them like a remembered dream. They built a filthy language out of tongues, breath, and the slow grind of hips. The kind of rhythm that doesn't ask and never fakes. The frame held still enough to watch them work for it, hard and generous, right at the edge where control stopped belonging to either of them.