Huh, she wants to play that way?
Zephery knows the moves better than anyone else. There is no push when the other doesn’t get an answer, but that in itself is answer enough. She only snickers and glanced to the clock. “You know– I thought you’d already be fuckin’ wasted by this time. Don’t tell you’re making VALENTINE’S DAY a special night?” Zeph found other ways of teasing the other. “Does that make us more than fuck buddies or are you ready to be mine?”
The contract killer watched the other as she was laying on her stomach looking cute. By now, if Zephery had a evident weakness it would be Amy. Maybe that’s why she hasn’t been too excited about letting anyone know about her personal life. Then they would know they can go through Amy if they needed something. Seeing as so far Zephery has been unable to deny Amy up until this point. No, and it’s because they both share twisted desires.
“I’m pretty sure the bath is full by now. C’mon baby, lemme see you,” her tone is suggestive and holds barely any shame when she’s expressing her wants.
You know me too damn well.
It never changes. The figure is C L E V E R and she’s so damn I N V I T I N G. How is it possible to be so C O O L and C O L L E C T even in such a situation? Amy ought to take a lesson. The grin remains just as prominent. There’s a brief pause before a breathy little G I G G L E will break the silence between them, “Might be a little bit buzzed, but I ain’t planned to be fairly sober on purpose.” L I A R, L I A R, you’ve ignited the F I R E. But Amy know’s she’s transparent. that’s the point.
I’m fairly sober, tonight is special. You might be special.
Are you ready to be mine?
The C O N F I D E N T demeanor breaks only for a moment, she’ll soften, “That a real offer, babe?”
S N A P. Back to P L A Y F U L and so utterly T H I R S T Y. She might be Zephery’s one weakness. But it just might be M U T U A L. How weak in the knees this woman makes her. Over-cooked rice begging to cool down and be D E V O U R E D, “See me?”
If that’s the way you want it.
Up onto her knees, the couch will become nothing more than a place for that sweater to fall. Arms cross, swift and sweet. Clinging to cashmere fabric, up and over her head. Pale skin, bare and
U N M A R K E D. But how long is that to last? Before love-bites coat delicate skin, aching for love. Her face is nothing but a T E A S E, the lower lip is bitten, but she’ll lean over, hands pressed to the arm of the couch, “Undress. This ain’t a one way game.” Suave and clear, she will stand, slowly walk right past her. As if it’s N O T H I N G. Straight into the bathroom. Hot water greeting cool flesh-- a
S P E C I A L night indeed.
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