The Pact: One Year Later

Eliza Jane paced the room like a cornered animal. Her mom's meeting her girlfriend tomorrow, the woman who used to wear her father's ring. Reagan Foxx pulled her close, skin still warm from the shower. "They're gonna see we're solid," she whispered, fingers sliding under Eliza's shirt. Doubt twisted through the younger woman's gut. Dad hadn't seen them together yet. But Reagan's mouth covered hers, hard and certain. Clothes hit the floor. Reagan's shirt came away and those heavy tits spilled out. Eliza latched on fast, tongue flicking a stiff nipple, sucking like hunger had teeth. Reagan peeled Eliza's top down next, dragged her tongue across Eliza's small breasts, caught each peak between her teeth until Eliza whimpered. Eliza shoved Reagan onto her back, ripped the lace off her hips, drove straight between her thighs. She buried her mouth in slick heat, licking and sucking until Reagan's hips bucked and she came hard against Eliza's tongue. Reagan's eyes darkened. She flipped Eliza, dragged the last scrap of cotton aside, worked two fingers inside before switching to wet circles around her ass. Eliza groaned loud when Reagan's tongue pressed in, licking where no one else had reached. She climbed over Reagan's face, grinding until both women dripped, then settled into a filthy grind of clits and heat, fucking away every worry with raw, sticky friction.