Trapping A Two-Timer

Nicole Kitt and Alex Coal stare at each other across the kitchen table, same lipstick ring on each wine glass, same gold necklace slipped beneath different collars. Both realize they've been fucking the same lying thief. Nicole slams her palm down. "She walks in, sees us laughing together, starts choking on her own bullshit." Alex nods, tongue sliding over her teeth. "Make the call." The phone rings twice. Little Puck answers, breathless. "Tonight? The three of us? Sounds perfect." When she knocks hours later she smells trouble, but the two women smile wide and innocent. They pour drinks, talk weather, cross legs slowly. Little Puck's fingers tremble around the glass. "Something wrong?" Nicole asks, voice sweet enough to gag on. The liar breaks, spits out the whole damn confession. Silence holds a beat, then Alex steps close, heat rolling off her skin. "On your knees. Right here, right now." Clothes come off in brutal silence. Nicole yanks Little Puck's mouth to Alex's open thighs, her own hands gripping the back of the smaller woman's neck, guiding. Tongues slide, teeth scrape, sweat builds. Fingers thrust, thighs clamp, words die in gasps. Alex drives three fingers into Little Puck while Nicole tongues her clit hard enough to bruise, the room filling with wet sounds and bruising grip-marks. Later the three of them sprawl over the rug, skin slick, breathing wrecked, the punishment paid in full.