Imperfect Angels #05

Magdalene slid under the sheets. Skin met skin. Faye felt the older woman’s thigh press against hers and didn’t pull away. Magdalene’s hand traveled slow, light as breath, down Faye’s ribs and lower. The scent of warm lotion drifted from her cleavage. "Don’t speak," she whispered, kissing the pulse at Faye’s throat. She circled one nipple through thin cotton, teasing until it ached. Faye bit back a sound, thighs already parting. A finger slid between slick folds. Magdalene found the swollen point, rubbing it with knowing pressure. Faye shuddered. Her back arched. Magdalene smiled against her mouth, then sank lower, kissing every inch. Wet heat replaced fingers. Magdalene sucked gently, tongue flicking. Faye’s hips moved without thought. A second finger eased in—slow, full, steady. Magdalene worked her rhythmically, refusing to let her come too soon. When she finally curled upward, hitting the right spot over and over, Faye broke open with a broken cry. Still kissing between her legs, Magdalene kept stroking long after the trembling stopped.