Moan for the Moone

Sophie Moone’s mouth starts watering the second she sees Honey Demon. Wetness already coats her lips before she even leans in. She traces her tongue between those slick folds, slow at first, then draws tight circles until Honey arches her back and moans loud enough to fill the room. It hits her fast—that perfect taste, that slip and heat—and Sophie loses herself in it. The deeper she licks, the tighter Honey clenches around her fingers sliding inside. When Honey catches her breath, she flips Sophie onto her back and eats right back. She doesn’t stop until the same cries fill the air. Both women always repay every favor.