Sharing the Bed: Part Six

Shyla reads the signs now the same way Sasha reads them: whatever Dani showed her taught her how much she wants her lover’s mouth and nothing else. Sasha stands in the hallway, heart thudding, aware only that every story she was forced to swallow feels hollow next to the girl behind the door. A knock. Nothing more. Sasha doesn’t hesitate. Shyla yanks her inside by the collar, lips colliding hard, breathless, open-mouthed. They taste the weeks they missed. Clothes drop where they stand, fabrics whispering to the floor. Breasts brush, nipples tightening, and the last layer—lace panties—slides off their hips as they climb the stairs naked, fingers trailing wetness on each other’s thighs. In the bedroom the afternoon sun finds their bodies on clean sheets and scattered rose petals. Sasha pushes Shyla down first, covers her, mouths a breast, then the tight peak, suckling until Shyla’s hips buck. Fingers part swollen lips, two sliding inside at once, stroking where Shyla is slick and hot. Shyla returns the favor, nails drawing bright lines down Sasha’s back while her tongue swirls lower—circling, licking, plunging into cunt that clamps and flutters. Each suck, each flick, draws wet, sobbing cries that fill the quiet room. Their thighs tremble. They find rhythm. Sasha grinds her clit against Shyla’s until their slick mingles and the grinding gives way to frantic rocking. They come hard, crying out together, bodies locked, hearts hammering so loud nothing else is heard. After the last tremor, they stay close, thighs wet, mouths lazy, breathing against each other’s skin. They have the bed to themselves, finally, and no need to leave it.