Closet Case

Jade Kush walks in for her massage and freezes when she spots Serena Blair behind the desk. Heat shoots through her. This woman could sell heat with a single glance. Serena smiles and steps closer, every movement tight and confident, until she gently introduces Jade to her masseur instead. Disappointment slams into Jade so fast she nearly drops her bag. She mumbles a thank-you and drags herself after the man. The second he ducks into the supply closet, she clicks the lock and bolts back toward reception. Serena looks surprised when Jade claims the masseur got an emergency call, but she agrees to step in. Jade barely waits for her to finish the sentence before peeling off her clothes and climbing onto the table. Serena’s hands start slow, controlled, professional. Jade doesn’t give them the chance. She arches into every touch, rolls her hips, brushes her fingertips over Serena’s wrist. The pretense crumbles. Serena’s lips part on a shaky breath and Jade surges up to claim them. Tongues meet. Heat blooms. Serena cups Jade’s breasts, sucking a nipple between her lips, teeth scraping softly. Jade moans into her mouth and drags her onto the table. They press close, thighs spreading, slick folds sliding together in a slow, greedy grind. Wet sounds fill the quiet room. Jade licks down Serena’s stomach, parts her folds, and feasts until Serena bucks hard against her tongue. Then she swings around so they can devour each other at the same time—tongues diving, fingers twisting, hips rolling faster. The masseur forgotten, pounding forgotten, nothing left but slick skin, tangled limbs, and the steady, filthy rhythm they can’t stop chasing.