Wicked Games of Two

Samia and Zafira keep circling each other like dancers who already know every step. Their thing never cools. Sometimes the tension knots so tight it pinches. Other nights they drift, only to slam back into each other’s mouths like they were starving. When they finally lock together, it’s tongues and teeth and wet fingers that don’t pause for breath. They trade slow strokes and sudden, greedy thrusts, spreading legs and shifting hips until someone gasps and the sheets twist under them. They know how to take their time and how to finish fast, eyes locked, slick skin slapping, until the room smells like both of them and they still want more.