Bus Stops #03

India and Amber treat KC’s place like a stolen hour in a very good hotel. They kick the door shut and the jackets hit the floor first, followed by socks, shirts, heat. Hot water hits porcelain. Amber steps behind India, soap in her palm, and the sound she makes when India leans into her is low and pleased. Steam climbs the mirror while fingers slide between thighs, slow circles that open her up. Amber palms one breast, thumb grazing a tight nipple, tongue at the nape of India’s neck. India reaches back, finds Amber’s cunt, two slick fingers pushing in until Amber swears against her skin. They fuck right there, slow then faster, water sluicing over knuckles. When Amber comes, she bites India’s shoulder and stays buried deep, letting every tremor answer her. They dry each other lazily, still touching, still breathing hard, the kind of rest that only follows good, filthy sex.