A Reflection Of Beauty

Melody Marks stood before the mirror, shoulders tight from the weight of her breakup. Dee Williams stepped behind her. "Look," Dee said, voice low. Her hands traced the curve of Melody's waist, fingertips brushing the cotton hem of her shirt. "Your skin catches the light right there," she murmured, thumbs smoothing over Melody's ribs. Melody met her own gaze, lips parting. Dee slid one hand higher, palm cupping a full breast through fabric, thumb circling a stiffening nipple until the shirt darkened with heat. "Your tits are perfect," Dee whispered. She rolled each peak between her fingers, felt Melody shiver, breath quickening. Their eyes locked in the glass. Dee's free hand slipped beneath the waistband of Melody's shorts, slipped further, found the wet heat between smooth lips. She stroked slowly, deliberately, gathering slick on two fingers. "See how pretty you are when you flush?" Dee pressed closer, her own breasts settling against Melody's back, nipples hard beneath her silk blouse. Melody's hips rocked forward against the mirror's cool surface, legs parting. Dee dropped to her knees behind her, tugged the shorts down, parted Melody's thighs. She leaned in and kissed the soft inner skin, tongue dragging upward until it parted swollen folds and licked a slow stripe over her clit. Melody's reflection trembled, fingers gripping the mirror frame. Dee sucked gently, tasting her stepdaughter's growing arousal, every flick of her tongue answered by a soft cry that fogged the glass. When Melody's knees threatened to buckle, Dee rose, turned her, and kissed her—tongues meeting, fingers returning to stroke deeper, faster, until Melody came with a broken gasp against her stepmother's mouth. Dee swallowed every sound, holding her steady as pleasure rippled through her in sharp, sweet pulses. Then she guided Melody's hand between her own thighs, already soaked, and let her feel the truth of every word she'd said.