House of Claws

The two stepsisters traded words like knives across the living room floor. Zazie kept the deed in her hand, and Candee kept a secret that could burn the whole thing down. Hours later the bedroom door closed. Candee offered herself. Zazie took her. Candee arched on damp sheets, Zazie buried her mouth between her thighs and licked until her own name spilled from the girl’s lips in broken syllables. Their clothes scattered. Sweat slicked their ribs. Zazie slid two fingers into the soaked heat, pushed them deep, crooked them hard until Candee’s hips bucked and she begged louder than the afternoon heat outside. She came with her heels digging into Zazie’s back, nails carving crescents into skin. Zazie did not pause. She flipped her over, tongue between her cheeks now, tasting every salty fold, fingers still working inside while Candee shook apart again, louder. Later, when Candee lay spent and spread, Zazie leaned over her ear and whispered the estate was hers either way. The truth left Candee pinned. Zazie kissed the salt on her own fingers and walked out without looking back.