Women Seeking Women #87

The door stayed closed until it didn’t. She opened it in heels and little else. He walked in like he already belonged between her thighs. The silk slid down her back as soon as he touched it. No words, just fingers finding skin, heat blooming under every stroke. She bent forward without being told. He spat once on his palm and ran it between her legs, slow, almost lazy. Then he pushed in, steady, all the way, until his hips hit the curve of her ass. She gasped, gripped the edge of the table, breath caught somewhere between a curse and a prayer. He stayed deep, grinding slow circles that made her calves shake. Each thrust got louder. Wet sounds mixed with the slap of skin. She begged, not for mercy, for more, harder, closer. He answered with his teeth on her shoulder and a hand around her throat, squeezing just enough to feel the pulse race. They moved like they had years to burn, sweat slick, limbs tangled, her nipples brushing the cool wood as he kept driving forward until neither of them cared who heard.