Some Alone Time

Bree stays behind while the others head out. Emily knocks anyway, tries pulling her toward the trail, but Bree’s got her book cracked and doesn’t budge. Emily shrugs, gives a half-smile, and walks off. Door clicks shut. Bree sinks into the couch again, but the story cuts hotter than she expected. One paragraph turns her thighs tight. She fights it for two lines, then her hand slides past the waistband. Fingers find heat; her breath shortens. The words blur, the motion stays sharp. “I knew it.” Emily’s back. Bree jerks, face burning. Emily smirks, eyes on the hand still buried. “Told you nobody stays in on purpose.” Bree stammers. Emily steps closer. “Want me to finish that chapter for you?” It lands like a dare, not a joke. Bree studies her face, sees zero tease left. Nod. The book hits the floor. Hands push fabric aside. Emily’s palm cups Bree’s breast, thumb grazing the stiff tip; Bree mirrors the touch, both breathing heavier. Clothes drop faster after that. Emily lowers her mouth, tongue tracing slick folds while fingers press inside. Bree answers with her own mouth and hand, tasting, circling, pushing. Every motion builds louder than printed words ever could. Bree comes harder, wetter, louder than any scene on the page. She already knows paper won’t be enough again.