Us

Kitana sits across the kitchen table staring at her stepsister like she wants to gut her. Jade's hands fidget with her mug, steam curling between them. You're gone because Jade whispered the wrong thing to you. Because Jade smiled too hard, looked too long, slid her fingers across the rim of your glass at that party. Kitana's knuckles go white on the wood. She wants the truth out. Jade swallows and stands up slow, circling the table until she's at Kitana's side. She drops to her knees like she's praying, and then her fingers undo the button of her stepsister's jeans with careful hands. The zipper sticks. Jade tugs, gets it, reaches inside, finds Kitana already swollen and slick. Kitana watches, breathing through her teeth. Jade's mouth opens, tongue flicking once, tasting salt and heat and guilt. Kitana's hand knots in Jade's hair and drags her forward until her nose hits fabric and she can barely breathe. Jade doesn't fight. She swallows. She moans. Kitana grinds into that wet heat, muttering "you owe me this" each time Jade gags. Jade nods, tears striping her cheeks, throat working while Kitana uses her like proof that someone still belongs to her. Every broken sound Jade makes lands low in Kitana's stomach, feeding the same sharp hunger that's kept her sleepless for weeks. She fucks Jade's mouth until she comes, bitter and sudden, spilling down the girl's throat while Jade whimpers around the sudden flood. Kitana finally lets go, chest heaving, eyes dark. Jade licks the last drops from her lips, red and ruined and ready for whatever else Kitana needs to take tonight.