The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that made your skin prickle with awareness. I’d been watching you all evening—how your fingers lingered on the stem of your wine glass, how your thighs pressed together when you thought no one was looking. Your lips were still glossy from the last sip, and I wanted to taste it off them. My parents were out for the night, their bedroom door ajar like an invitation neither of us could ignore.
“You’re staring,” you murmured, not looking at me. Your voice was low, rough, like you’d been holding back all night.
“I know,” I said, stepping closer. The air between us was thick enough to choke on. “I’ve been thinking about what you’d look like on their bed. How you’d sound when I make you come.”
Your breath hitched. I saw the way your nipples hardened under that thin blouse, the way your pulse jumped in your throat. “Elena, we shouldn’t—”
“We should.” My fingers brushed your wrist, then slid up your arm, slow, deliberate. “You’ve been wet for me since dinner. I can smell it.”
A whimper escaped you. Fuck, I loved that sound. Loved how your body betrayed you, how your hips rolled forward like you were already begging for my touch. I pushed you backward until your ass hit the edge of the mattress, then followed you down, crawling over you like a predator who’d finally caught her prey. The bed groaned under us, the scent of my mother’s perfume still clinging to the sheets—something floral, something expensive. It made this even dirtier.
“Take this off,” I ordered, tugging at your blouse. You obeyed, your fingers fumbling with the buttons. I didn’t wait. I ripped it open, sending pearl buttons scattering across the carpet. Your bra followed, and then your tits were in my hands, heavy and warm, your nipples dark and tight. I sucked one into my mouth, biting just enough to make you gasp.
“Fuck—Elena—”
“Shh.” I switched to the other, my free hand sliding down your stomach, slipping under the waistband of your skirt. No panties. Of course not. You were always ready for me, weren’t you? My fingers found your pussy, soaked, swollen. I groaned against your skin. “You’re dripping. Did you touch yourself today thinking about this?”
“Yes,” you breathed, arching into my touch. “I—I couldn’t stop.”
“Good girl.” I pushed two fingers inside you, curling them until you moaned, your nails digging into my shoulders. “You’re gonna come so hard for me, Mara. But first…” I pulled back, leaving you empty, whining. On the nightstand, a half-melted candle flickered. I grabbed it, tilting it so the wax pooled at the edge. “Ever had this before?”
Your eyes widened. “No.”
“You’ll love it.” I dripped a single drop onto your collarbone. You hissed, your body jerking, but your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate. The wax hardened, warm and sweet-smelling. I traced a path down your sternum, between your tits, letting the wax cool on your skin like a second set of fingers. “Tell me to stop.”
You shook your head, your lips parted. “Don’t you dare.”
I laughed, low and dark, then poured a slow stream over your nipple. You screamed, your back bowing off the bed, but your hands flew to your pussy, rubbing frantically. “That’s it,” I growled. “Play with that pretty cunt while I mark you up.” I dripped wax onto your other nipple, then lower, over your stomach, the heat making your skin glow. You were panting, your fingers working furiously between your legs, your thighs slick with arousal.
“Please,” you begged. “I need you inside me.”
“Since you asked so nicely.” I stripped off my clothes, my pussy throbbing with need. The candle went back on the nightstand—I’d save the rest for later. Right now, I need to feel you. I climbed between your legs, dragging my tongue up your inner thigh, tasting salt and desire. Your clit was swollen, glistening. I licked it once, then sucked it into my mouth, my fingers replacing yours inside you.
“Oh god—Elena—I’m gonna—” Your words dissolved into a cry as I crooked my fingers, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back. Your orgasm crashed over you, your pussy pulsing around my fingers, your juices coating my chin. I didn’t stop. I kept licking, kept fingering you through it, drawing out every last shudder until you were boneless and gasping.
“My turn,” I said, crawling up your body. I straddled your face, my pussy hovering over your mouth. “Lick me like you mean it.”
You grabbed my hips and pulled me down, your tongue flat and hot against my slit. I rocked against your face, my clit dragging over your lips, my fingers tangling in your hair. You moaned, the vibration making me see stars. “Fuck, just like that—” I rode your face, grinding down, my thighs trembling. You slipped two fingers inside me, fucking me with them while your tongue worked my clit, and I came with a broken cry, my release gushing onto your tongue.
I collapsed beside you, breathless, but we weren’t done. Not even close. I rolled you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so your ass was in the air. “You’ve been such a good girl,” I murmured, spanking you once, twice, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Your pussy dripped onto the sheets. I leaned down, licking a stripe from your clit to your asshole, then pushed my tongue inside you, fucking you with it until you were writhing.
“Elena, please, I need your fingers—”
I gave you three…
