Lesbian House Hunters #04

Dyanna watches Lily from across the room. The girl moves like she knows the effect she has—slim waist, hips that sway, a mouth built for trouble. Dyanna's pulse kicks once, hard. She makes her move quietly: a word to the host, a switch of seat cards, a bottle of something expensive chilling by the balcony. Lily arrives and finds herself with nowhere else to sit. When she drops onto the cushions, Dyanna is already there. Close enough for perfume to catch her skin, not close enough to touch yet. She pours. They talk. Lily laughs, tilts her head, lets the strap of her dress slip. Dyanna tracks every inch. Her hand rests on the back of the sofa, thumb brushing bare shoulder. She waits. Lily doesn't pull away. They lean into each other until the balcony door closes behind them and the party noise fades to a dull throb. Dyanna kisses her first—slow, then deeper, tongue flicking past lipstick. Lily answers with a sound low in her throat. The silk of her dress rasps as Dyanna's hand slides underneath, finding warm skin, the tight bead of a nipple, then lower. Lily spreads for her, thigh parting over Dyanna's knee. No hurry now. Fingers trace, press, dip between wet folds until Lily's breath stutters and her hands grip the railing for balance. Dyanna watches her face while she works—one finger, then two, steady rhythm, palm slick with it. Lily comes with a choked cry, head dropping onto Dyanna's shoulder, thighs shaking. The night air clings cool against fevered skin. Dyanna kisses her again, slower this time, tasting sweat and satisfaction. Lily smiles against her mouth, already reaching for the buckle at Dyanna's waist.