Caught Red Handed

Alexa Si has played the good stepmother for months, watching Zazie move through the house in those tiny shorts. She folds laundry while the girl stretches on the yoga mat, spine curved, knees spread. Every time Zazie bends, the fabric rides up. Alexa’s pulse jumps against her collarbone. She keeps washing dishes, keeps smiling. Today the smile cracks. She finds Zazie in the hallway after her shower, towel slipping at the hip. Water trails between the girl’s small breasts. Alexa steps close, cups the damp face, and kisses her. Zazie gasps but leans in, towel dropping to the floor. Alexa sinks to her knees on the tile. She spreads Zazie open with both thumbs and drags her tongue slowly up the soft seam, tasting salt and heat. Zazie’s fingers grip the doorframe. Her thighs tremble. Alexa stands, lifts the girl against the wall, legs wrapped around her waist. She pushes two fingers inside, steady, knuckle-deep. Zazie arches, wet heat clenching. They move in short, hard thrusts. Alexa bites the skin beneath Zazie’s ear and whispers what she wants to do next. The words come out hoarse, almost grateful. She keeps thrusting until Zazie shudders hard around her fingers and bites her shoulder to stay quiet. When the girl goes limp, Alexa carries her to the bedroom and lays her down. She spreads those slim thighs again and starts over, slower this time, mouth and tongue working in lazy circles until Zazie’s hips lift and her toes curl against the sheets.