Keep Her Close

Octavia Red and Selian Imai are dripping, bare skin flushed, their bodies gleaming under the lights. They’re not pretending to be delicate. They’re hungry. Octavia has a fistful of Selian’s wet hair, tipping her head back so she can mouth at the column of her throat. Selian’s legs lock around Octavia’s hips and hold on tight. Water slides between them and gathers at their curves. Every thrust of fingers meets slick heat. Their cunts glisten. When Octavia slides two fingers in to the knuckle, the sound is filthy, louder than the panting in the room. Selian moans like it’s been ripped out of her. They grind against each other, hips working, muscles taut and shaking. It gets messy fast—thighs trembling, juices dripping onto the tile. Octavia pulls her fingers free, slick and shiny, and rubs slow circles over Selian’s swollen clit. The girl bucks, thighs spreading wider. She comes with a sharp cry, back arching, gushing over Octavia’s hand. Octavia doesn’t stop. She keeps rubbing, keeps dragging out every twitch until Selian’s gasping and clutching at her shoulders like she can’t tell if she wants more or if she’ll shatter. Water runs down their spines in rivulets, splatters around them as they crash together again and again. Both soaked. Both greedy. Neither stopping.