I Knew She Was Up To Something

Maya sits at the kitchen island and watches Holly move. The want hits her hard and fast. "Stay a little," Maya says. "Just for me." Holly's eyebrow lifts. She's half-dressed, hair pinned, bag already in hand. "Can't miss this slot," she tells Maya. "They'll charge me if I cancel." Maya leans forward, legs swinging. "They can wait." Holly steps in, kisses her slow and light, and pulls back before the heat can stick. "When I get home," she says. "All of me." Then she's out the door. Maya tries scrolling through her phone, flipping through a magazine, running the tap just to hear noise. Nothing sticks. She gives up and heads to the bedroom. She peels her panties down, drops back on the bed, and slides her fingers where she's already wet. The slick sound fills the room as she strokes herself, legs spread, mind painting every dirty thing she wants Holly to do later. She's getting loud with it now, hips rolling, breath short. Holly steps back in. The appointment ran quick. She catches the view from the doorway—Maya's fingers working, sheets already damp, head tipped back. Holly moves quiet, hides behind a broad-leafed plant in the corner, and watches. Her own hand finds her thigh. Heat spreads as she keeps her eyes on the way Maya touches herself, lost to it, close to breaking. Then Holly steps out. Maya freezes, face flushed. Holly's smile is sharp, pupils blown. "Don't stop," Holly says, already kicking her shoes off. "You're ready for me."