Budapest #06

Back from dinner, heels still on, they thought they had the place to themselves. Silk slid off shoulders the moment the door clicked shut. One dress hit the floor in a red heap. Mouths found bare skin. Fingers traced the damp edge of lace before tugging it aside, baring slick heat to cooler air. A tongue flicked, slow then insistent. Soft moans answered. She tasted her, drank the gasp that followed, and set to work with single-minded hunger. Thighs shook around her head, hips rolling up into every stroke until nothing existed beyond those wet sounds and the sharp little cry that broke loose.