Her fixation on his quiet intensity
# The Painted Confession ## Girls' Night In Jenna swirled her wine glass, watching the deep red liquid catch the soft light of her living room lamps. Her friend Chloe—all generous curves and knowing smiles—curled deeper into the opposite
Chapter 1
Jenna swirled her wine glass, watching the deep red liquid catch the soft light of her living room lamps. Her friend Chloe—all generous curves and knowing smiles—curled deeper into the opposite corner of the large sectional, her short brown hair framing a face alive with anticipation. The air smelled of citrus from the spritzers and the faint, lingering scent of the Thai food they’d demolished an hour earlier.
“Okay, your turn,” Chloe declared, tucking her bare feet under her thighs. “Truth. What’s the single sexiest thought you’ve had this week?”
A slow, wicked grin spread across Jenna’s face. She was a compact bundle of bold energy, her shaved head a declaration of confidence, her hazel eyes glittering with mischief. She leaned forward, her slim frame animated.
“It’s not a thought,” Jenna corrected, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. “It’s a fixation. And it’s driving me absolutely insane because it’s physically impossible right now.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow, her full lips curving. “Leo’s still out of town on that contract job?”
“Two more weeks,” Jenna sighed, the playful bravado slipping for just a second, revealing the raw edge of her want. “And I’m stuck here with this… *image* in my head. He told me once—and god, the way he said it, all quiet intensity—that the hottest thing in the world to him is watching my panties come off. Not just taking them off, but *peeling* them. Slowly. Watching the fabric cling for a second, dragging against me, showing him exactly how ready I am.” She took a long sip of her wine, her gaze distant. “The visual of that, of *seeing* that from his perspective… I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“So have him do it when he gets back,” Chloe said with a laugh, her tone caring but missing the point.
“That’s the thing,” Jenna insisted, sitting up straighter. “I don’t want him to *do* it. I want to *see* it. I want to watch it happen to me, like I’m outside my own body. I want to witness that moment he describes, where the lace is stuck and then it gives way. But how? It’s a total paradox. I’m complaining to the void here. It’s never going to happen.”
She flopped back against the cushions, her expression a mix of frustration and amusement. The playful admission hung in the warm, intimate space between them. Chloe watched her, a thoughtful, mysterious glint appearing in her dark eyes, as if a fascinating, romantic puzzle had just been laid at her feet. She swirled her own drink, her confidence a quiet, palpable force in the room.
“Never say never,” Chloe murmured, her voice a low, inviting whisper that seemed to vibrate in the soft light. “Some fantasies just need a different pair of hands to help bring them into focus.”
Chapter 2
Jenna leaned forward, her glass pausing halfway to her lips. That glint in Chloe’s eyes wasn’t just playful curiosity; it was the spark of a plan. “Okay, you’ve got that look,” Jenna said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “What are you proposing, exactly?”
Chloe unfolded herself from the cushions, her movements languid and deliberate. She placed her wine glass on the coffee table with a soft click. “You said you want to *see* it,” she began, her dark eyes holding Jenna’s. “To witness that moment from the outside. What if you could? What if someone could… capture it for you?”
A slow, incredulous smile spread across Jenna’s face. “You mean, like, a photo?”
“Better,” Chloe purred, her confidence filling the space between them. “A painting. Think about it. A photo is a snapshot. A painting is an *interpretation*. It’s all about the texture, the light, the *drag* of the fabric.” She gestured with her hands, miming a slow, deliberate peel. “It’s the artist’s eye focusing on exactly what your husband described—the tension, the wet silk clinging, then giving way. You’d get to see your own body through that lens. Through *his* lens.”
Jenna’s breath caught. The fantasy shifted, deepening, becoming tangible. “You paint,” she stated, the realization dawning.
“I do,” Chloe confirmed, a slow smile playing on her full lips. “And I’ve been told I have a talent for… capturing intimate details.”
A thrilling, dangerous heat coiled in Jenna’s stomach. This was no longer a hypothetical complaint. This was an offer. “So, what? You’d… paint me? Like that?”
Chloe nodded, her gaze unwavering. “Exactly like that. You set the scene. Your favorite panties. The lighting you imagine he’d love. You perform the act for the canvas. For your own eyes, later. I just provide the hands and the eyes to translate it.” She leaned closer, her voice a velvet murmur. “It’s not a replacement for Leo. It’s a love letter to the fantasy he gave you. A way to hold onto that ache until he gets home.”
The air between them crackled with possibility. Jenna’s mind raced, the image now vivid and layered—the cool slide of silk, the brush of her own fingers, the intense, focused attention of her best friend’s artist’s gaze documenting every second.
“You’d really do that?” Jenna asked, her own boldness surging back, mixed with a vulnerable thrill.
Chloe’s answer was a soft, decisive whisper. “Just say when.”
Chapter 3
“Now,” Jenna breathed, the word more a challenge than a confirmation. A bold, electric grin replaced her earlier frustration. “Right now. If I think about it any longer, I’ll chicken out.”
Chloe’s answering smile was pure, focused intensity. “Good. Go pick your weapon.”
Jenna padded to her bedroom, her heart a drum against her ribs. She returned a moment later, holding a pair of black lace panties by a single finger. They were Leo’s favorite—a delicate web against her skin that always drove him wild. “These,” she said, her voice husky.
“Perfect,” Chloe approved, already moving the coffee table aside with a scrape of wood on wood. She retrieved a large sketchpad and a case of charcoal pencils from a bag by the door, her movements swift and sure. She arranged a floor lamp to cast a dramatic, warm light across the now-empty space before the sofa. “Your stage is set. Show me the fantasy.”
Jenna stood in the pool of light, the soft fabric of her lounge shorts suddenly feeling too heavy. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband. “So, I just…?”
“You just *be*,” Chloe corrected, settling onto the floor with her sketchpad propped on her knees. Her gaze was no longer that of her best friend; it was the cool, assessing stare of an artist capturing a subject. “Do it for yourself. Do it for him. I’m just the witness.”
Jenna took a deep, steadying breath. She pushed the shorts down her legs, kicking them aside. The cool air kissed her bare thighs. She stood there for a moment in just her tank top and the black lace, feeling impossibly exposed and yet powerfully in control.
“Okay,” she whispered, more to herself.
Her fingers found the waistband of the panties. She hooked her thumbs into the delicate lace on either side of her hips. Then, slowly—agonizingly, deliciously slowly—she began to peel them down.
The sound of charcoal scratching swiftly across paper was the only noise in the room. Jenna kept her eyes locked on the far wall, losing herself in the sensation. She felt the lace drag, catching against the wetness already gathering at her core. A soft, involuntary gasp escaped her lips as the fabric clung, revealing the truth of her arousal before surrendering its hold.
“God, yes,” Chloe murmured, her voice low and absorbed. “Just like that. Let me see it.”
The command, delivered in that focused whisper, sent a fresh wave of heat through Jenna. She continued the slow descent, the lace now gliding over the curve of her ass. She arched her back slightly, presenting the view, playing to the unseen audience of her own future eyes. Her own fingers trembled as they reached mid-thigh.
“It’s so much,” she breathed, her eyes slipping shut. “The drag… the anticipation…”
“I see it,” Chloe said, her tone reverent. “I see all of it. The tension in the lace. The shine. Don’t stop.”
Jenna didn’t. She peeled the panties all the way down her legs, stepping out of them one foot at a time. She stood completely bare from the waist down, the warm light painting her skin in gold and shadow. The ache between her legs was a palpable, throbbing presence. Her hand drifted there almost of its own accord, her fingertips brushing through her own wetness.
“Chloe…” Jenna’s voice was a ragged thread.
“Look at me,” Chloe instructed, her own breathing slightly uneven.
Jenna opened her eyes and turned her head. Chloe’s dark gaze was blazing, flicking between her sketch and Jenna’s body with hungry intensity. The sight of that raw, artistic focus—directed entirely at her, at her most vulnerable and aroused—was dizzying.
“Do you feel it?” Chloe asked, her pencil pausing.
“I feel everything,” Jenna admitted, her fingers pressing a little deeper, a soft moan trapped in her throat. The scene was for Leo, but this moment, this charged, silent exchange, was entirely theirs. The fantasy was spilling over its banks, becoming something new, something dangerously alive.
Chapter 4
A rough, deliberate sound tore through the charged quiet—the violent rip of a page being torn from a sketchbook. Jenna’s eyes flew open.
“Stop,” Chloe commanded, her voice thick but focused.
Jenna froze, her fingers still buried in her own slick heat. “What?”
Chloe didn’t look up, her eyes on the fresh, blank page she’d revealed. “Reset. That one was… a warm-up. A study.” Finally, her dark gaze lifted, locking onto Jenna’s with fiery intent. “Now you’re *really* wet. I can see it from here. The light catches it differently. So put them back on.”
A hot, delicious shiver ran through Jenna. “Do it again?”
“Do it *better*,” Chloe corrected, a slow, wicked smile spreading. “Now you know the rhythm. Now you can really *perform* for him. Show me what it looks like when you’re so turned on the fabric practically melts.”
The command was electrifying. With a shaky, excited breath, Jenna bent to retrieve the discarded black lace from the floor. The delicate material was damp and warm from her body. The simple act of stepping back into them, of pulling the soaked lace up her thighs, over her ass, and settling the waistband back on her hips, was obscenely intimate. The wet silk clung instantly, a cool, shocking contrast to the heat beneath.
“God,” Jenna gasped, adjusting the waistband. “They’re already stuck.”
“Good,” Chloe murmured, her charcoal poised. “That’s what we want. Now. Show me the confession.”
Centering herself in the light, Jenna hooked her thumbs again. This time, there was no hesitation, only a deep, throbbing purpose. She looked directly at Chloe as she began the slow, deliberate peel.
The drag was immediate and profound. The lace resisted, glued to her skin by her own arousal. She arched her back, pushing her hips forward, forcing the fabric to cling even tighter before it surrendered.
“Talk to me,” Chloe urged, her hand flying across the paper. “What’s he seeing?”
“He’s seeing how much I want him,” Jenna moaned, the words tumbling out. “He’s watching the lace get darker, watching it *shine* where I’m wettest. He’s seeing it stretch… and stick…” She peeled another inch, a soft, helpless sound escaping as the sensation burned straight to her core. “He knows it’s all for him. That this… this *ache*… is because of his voice in my head.”
“Is it?” Chloe asked, her own breath catching. “Is it just his voice now?”
Jenna didn’t answer with words. She answered with a slow, rolling grind of her hips against the air, making the wet lace pull taut. Her eyes stayed locked on Chloe’s, broadcasting a daring, unspoken truth. The fantasy had a new, live-wire component: an audience who was not just observing, but *stoking* the fire. She continued the agonizing descent, the panties now a soaked band at her mid-thigh, the most intimate part of her fully exposed to the warm light and her friend’s hungry gaze.
Chapter 5
“Hold that,” Chloe’s voice cut through the heavy silence, a command that brooked no argument.
Jenna froze, bent over the arm of the sofa, her perfect ass presented to the warm light and her friend’s gaze. The soaked lace panties were a dark, glistening band just below her cheeks, the rest of her exposed and gleaming. She heard the frantic scratching of charcoal intensify.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Chloe whispered, her voice closer now. “The angle… the light on your skin… it’s perfect.”
Jenna obeyed, trembling with the effort of holding still while every nerve screamed. The ache between her legs was a palpable throb, a silent plea. Then she felt it—a touch that wasn’t her own.
Chloe’s fingers, cool from holding the charcoal, brushed lightly against her inner thigh. Jenna gasped, a jolt of pure electricity shooting straight to her core.
“Shhh,” Chloe soothed, but her touch wasn’t soothing. It was exploratory. Her fingertips traced upwards, a feather-light caress along Jenna’s slick heat, skirting but not quite touching where she needed it most. “I just need to readjust you.”
“Readjust?” Jenna panted, her cheek pressed against the soft fabric of the couch.
“For the composition,” Chloe murmured, her voice thick with focus. Her other hand came to rest on Jenna’s lower back, applying gentle pressure. “Arch just a little more for me… yes. Just like that.” Her exploring fingers circled higher, dipping briefly into Jenna’s wetness before retreating. “God, you’re soaked. The light catches it so much better now. It’s all shine and want.”
“Chloe…” Jenna whimpered, pushing back against the teasing touch.
“I told you not to move,” Chloe said, but there was no reprimand in it—only a dark, thrilling promise. Her fingers returned, this time with purpose. They parted Jenna gently, exposing her completely to the air and to her view. “There. That’s the look I needed.” She dragged a single finger slowly through Jenna’s folds, collecting the evidence of her arousal. “This is what he wants to see when he peels them off, isn’t it? This utter readiness.”
“Yes,” Jenna cried out softly, her hips giving an involuntary jerk.
Chloe’s finger pressed inside her, just an inch—a shocking, exquisite invasion. It wasn’t rough; it was an artist claiming her subject. “Now I see everything,” Chloe breathed against her skin, withdrawing slowly before tracing wet circles around Jenna’s clit. “I see how deep this fantasy goes for you.”
She continued those maddening circles as Jenna shuddered and moaned into the couch cushion.
“Talk to me while I work,” Chloe commanded softly as she resumed sketching with one hand while touching and exploring with the other effortlessly. Her focus was terrifying and exhilarating. “What is he doing while he watches this?”
Jenna choked out words between gasps from every deft movement on herself.. “He… he has his hand around his cock… He's stroking himself in front of me…”
“He has such thick hands from work,” Chloe reminded him in whispers painting faster still.”Does his big thumb rub over his tip while he watches how wet I get for him?”
The image was devastatingly clear in front of him — Leo at home maybe leaning against their bedroom doorframe watching this very scene play out without ever being here physically.”Yes!”
A second finger joined first slipping easily inside after reading such openness.”And are you telling him how bad you need him?”
“I tell him I can feel his eyes on me… burning me… That every time lace drags… I think about his mouth replacing it…”
Chloe increased speed ever so slightly focusing specifically around swollen knot claiming each gasp as part another new stroke onto paper.This dual attention — one hand sketching furious intimate truth other conducting symphony pure physical sensation kept pulling away leaving tantalizing emptiness only return more deeply hotter than last time creating rhythm teetering near edge then deliberately softening glide pulling heat back down simmering pot refusing boil over yet stoking flames higher beneath surface preparing ultimate release later chapters instead now focusing building intensity without climax but leaving body humming tightly wound promise what's come next once fantasy becomes reality again husbands return
Chapter 6
“The shadow line is too perfect here,” Chloe murmured, her voice a low, distracted hum as her charcoal fingers explored. “I need to understand the texture… how the light diffuses through the wetness.”
Her touch was a maddening, clinical caress. She circled Jenna’s clit with a slow, deliberate pressure, then retreated to trace the soaked seam of her pussy, spreading the slickness with her thumb.
“Chloe, please,” Jenna gasped, her knuckles white where she gripped the sofa arm.
“Please what?” Chloe asked, her tone innocent, even as she slipped two fingers inside Jenna with a soft, wet sound. She held them there, not moving, a living part of the composition. “I’m just calibrating. For the sketch. The internal heat… it changes the muscle tension, the arch of your back.” She curled her fingers, finding a spot that made Jenna cry out. “See? That’s the reaction I need to capture. The raw, unfiltered truth of it.”
“You’re not… you’re not calibrating,” Jenna panted, pushing back against the invasion, desperate for more.
“Of course I am,” Chloe insisted, beginning a slow, rhythmic pulse with her hand. Her other hand continued sketching, the charcoal scraping frantically. “Art requires intimacy with the subject. I need to feel what you’re feeling to translate it onto the page. Is he thinking about this? Right now, while he’s away? Is he imagining how easily you take these fingers?”
“Yes,” Jenna sobbed, her body tightening.
“Tell him, then,” Chloe commanded, her own breath becoming shallow. “Look at the wall like it’s him. Tell Leo what’s happening to you.”
Jenna turned her head, her vision blurry. “Leo… she’s touching me… and it’s all for you… she’s making me so wet for you…”
“Better,” Chloe whispered, increasing her pace. The heel of her palm ground against Jenna as her fingers thrust deeper. “And does he like it? Does he like seeing you like this, getting what you need from a friend’s hand?”
“He loves it,” Jenna moaned, the confession torn from her. “He loves seeing me… lose control… for him…”
Chloe’s rhythm became relentless, a perfect, punishing tempo. “Then show him,” she breathed against Jenna’s heated skin. “Show him how close his good girl is. Let me see it all. For the art.”
Jenna’s entire world narrowed to that point of contact, to the building, coiling pressure that Chloe both stoked and expertly held at bay. She was balanced on a razor’s edge, every muscle taut, her breath coming in ragged bursts, completely at the mercy of her friend’s artistic vision.
Chapter 7
“You’re going to come on my hand, Jenna.”
Chloe’s voice was a dark, certain promise, the words brushing against Jenna’s damp skin. Her two fingers inside Jenna twisted, spreading her open, and then a third joined them in a slow, deliberate slide.
“Oh god,” Jenna choked, her body convulsing around the sudden, stretching fullness.
“Feel that?” Chloe breathed, her own excitement palpable in the ragged edge of her question. She began a deep, pumping rhythm, her fingers curling to drag against Jenna’s inner walls with every stroke. “I can feel your pussy trying to clamp down already. It’s gripping me like a fist. Imagine how hard it’s going to clamp when you finally let go. Imagine how tight you’ll be for him after this.”
The artistic exploration became a carnal investigation. Chloe’s thumb found Jenna’s clit again, circling the swollen bud with a pressure that was both cruel and perfect. Her sketching hand had stilled, the charcoal forgotten; her full attention was now on the living, trembling canvas before her.
“Talk to him,” Chloe urged, her rhythm relentless. “Tell Leo what’s happening. Tell him what his friend is doing to his wife.”
“She’s… filling me up,” Jenna gasped, her hips rocking to meet every thrust. “Her hand… I can feel all of it… every ridge, every knuckle. She says I’m going to come… right on her fingers.”
“And you are,” Chloe confirmed, her voice husky with shared effort. She leaned closer, her breath hot on Jenna’s ear. “But not yet. I want to feel every single tremor first. I want to map the exact moment your control shatters. For the art.”
Jenna’s world was a white-hot point of sensation, her entire being focused on the intricate, devastating work of Chloe’s hand. The climb was dizzying, a sheer cliff face she was being driven up with no promise of a peak, only the terrifying, glorious certainty of the fall.
Chapter 8
“She’s… filling me up,” Jenna gasped again, her voice a broken whimper against the relentless rhythm. “Her hand… I can feel all of it…”
“You’re so wet for her,” Chloe corrected, her own breath coming faster now. “For *him*. But she’s not done exploring.”
Her free hand, slick from Jenna’s own arousal, drifted down. The pad of her middle finger pressed, not against Jenna’s clit, but lower, circling the tight, forbidden furl of her asshole.
Jenna’s entire body seized, a jolt of pure, electric shock silencing her.
“Relax,” Chloe murmured, the command a hot breath against Jenna’s neck. Her finger didn’t push in, not yet. It just pressed, a slow, insistent rotation against the nerve-rich rim, a maddening counterpoint to the deep, pumping thrust of her other hand. “Tell him about this, too. Tell him how good it feels. That his shy friend is touching every part of you. For the painting.”
The dual sensation was devastating. The thick stretch inside her, the shocking, intimate pressure *there*. Control was a phantom, a memory. A ragged, guttural sound tore from Jenna’s throat as her hips began to piston wildly, fucking herself on Chloe’s fingers, seeking more of that impossible, double-sided contact.
“I’m losing it,” Jenna choked out, the confession ripped from her. “Leo, she’s… she’s everywhere. I can’t… I can’t hold on.”
“Then don’t,” Chloe said, her voice thick with a fierce, shared triumph. Her circling finger pressed harder, a promise of more. “Let go. Show me how you break. For the *art*.”
But as Jenna’s muscles began to flutter in frantic, pre-climactic spasms, Chloe stilled. Both hands went utterly motionless, buried in Jenna’s heat, holding her on the knife’s edge. The sudden absence of movement was more brutal than any touch.
“Not yet,” Chloe breathed, slowly withdrawing her hands, leaving Jenna achingly empty and trembling violently. “Research requires perspective. A change in subject.”
Jenna could only stare, dazed and desperate, as Chloe stood. She walked a few unsteady steps to the center of the room, the lamplight gilding her curves. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her own soft cotton shorts and the lace panties beneath.
“You said you wanted to see it,” Chloe said, her dark eyes holding Jenna’s. “The peel. The reveal. So come here. Do it to me. Study the mechanics. For your fantasy.”
Her voice dropped, playful yet utterly commanding.
“Peel them off me, Jenna. Slowly. Show me how it’s done.”
Chapter 9
Jenna’s breath caught in her throat. The air in the room, already thick with the scent of her own arousal, seemed to crackle with a new, dangerous charge. Chloe stood before her, lamplight painting her curves in gold, her thumbs hooked defiantly in her waistband. The command hung between them, a dare wrapped in a favor.
“You… want me to…” Jenna’s voice was a hoarse whisper, her body still trembling from the brutal edge Chloe had left her on.
“I want you to *study*,” Chloe clarified, her dark eyes gleaming. “You wanted the visual. The peel. The reveal. So get over here and take it. Learn what it looks like from the other side. For Leo.”
The logic was insane. It was perfect. A ragged laugh escaped Jenna as she pushed herself up from the couch, her legs unsteady. She closed the small distance, her hazel eyes locked on the soft cotton of Chloe’s shorts, the hint of lace beneath. This was no longer just a performance for a distant audience. This was a transaction. A lesson.
“Slowly,” Chloe instructed, her voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Make me feel every millimeter of it.”
Jenna’s hands, which had felt so confident on her own body minutes before, now felt clumsy. She sank to her knees on the plush rug, bringing her eye level with Chloe’s hips. The intimacy was staggering. Up close, she could see the fine texture of the cotton, the delicate scalloped edge of the black lace peeking out.
She hooked her own fingers beside Chloe’s, feeling the warmth of her friend’s skin through the fabric. “Okay,” Jenna breathed, more to herself. “Show me.”
She began to pull, a deliberate, downward drag. The cotton stretched, then slid over the swell of Chloe’s hips, revealing the lace beneath. It was a simple black pair, elegant and sheer. Jenna’s focus narrowed to the point where fabric met skin. She slowed further, applying a gentle, teasing pressure.
“There,” Chloe sighed, a shudder running through her. “Right there. Do you see it?”
Jenna did. As the lace began its descent, it clung. It caught, just for a heartbeat, on the dampness already glistening on Chloe’s skin, outlining the soft, full lips beneath. The sheer material grew dark and transparent with it, a stark, wet map of her excitement. It was the exact image Leo had described, but now it was Jenna’s hands causing it, Jenna’s eyes witnessing it.
“God, Chloe,” Jenna whispered, her own need coiling tight again, a mirror to what she saw. “You’re so wet. Just from this.”
“From watching you,” Chloe corrected, her hand coming down to cradle Jenna’s shaved head, fingers stroking the smooth skin. “From making you come apart. Now keep going. Show me the rest.”
Jenna peeled the lace the final inch, the damp fabric finally releasing with a soft, sticky sound. She let the panties fall to the floor, her gaze fixed, unblinking, on the beautiful, glistening reality now bare before her. The fantasy was no longer just in her head. It was here, in her hands, in the charged silence, and in the triumphant, knowing smile on her friend’s face.
Chapter 10
The sight was breathtaking. In the warm lamplight, Jenna watched, mesmerized, as Chloe’s exposed pussy gave a slow, visible pulse. Another throb followed, a silent, wet demand that made the glistening flesh glint.
“Do you see it?” Chloe’s voice was thick, her fingers tightening in Jenna’s hair. “What you did to me?”
“I see everything,” Jenna breathed, her own need a roaring echo. She watched another shuddering clench, a bead of wetness gathering. The visual was no longer theoretical. It was a living, pulsing truth inches from her face. “I can see it throb. Every time, Chloe. I can see how much you ache.”
A low, guttural sound escaped Chloe’s throat. “Then do something about it.”
The permission was all Jenna needed. She leaned forward, her breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. “Chloe,” she said, her voice dropping to a possessive, husky whisper. “I’m going to fuck you now.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. Her tongue swept forward in one long, firm stroke, tasting the sharp, musky proof of her friend’s arousal. Chloe cried out, her hips bucking against Jenna’s mouth.
“Oh, god, yes,” Chloe gasped, her head falling back. “Just like that. Your mouth… it’s so good.”
Jenna licked again, slower this time, tracing the swollen outline of her lips before circling the tight, throbbing center. She used the flat of her tongue, then the tip, learning the rhythm of Chloe’s body through taste and touch. Her hands came up to grip Chloe’s thighs, holding her steady as she feasted.
“You taste incredible,” Jenna moaned against her, the words vibrating into Chloe’s skin. “All for me. All from watching me.”
“For you,” Chloe panted, her own hands now fisted in the cushions behind her. “And for him. Tell him, Jenna. Tell Leo what you’re doing to me.”
Jenna pulled back just enough to speak, her lips shining. “Leo,” she said, her hazel eyes blazing up at Chloe’s flushed face. “I’m on my knees. Your wife is on her knees, and I have my mouth on our friend. She’s so wet for us. Can you hear her?” She dove back in, her tongue plunging deeper, fucking Chloe with slow, deliberate strokes.
Chloe’s moans climbed higher, her body bowing off the couch. “Yes! Right there, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”
Jenna obeyed, her world narrowing to the heat and the taste and the perfect, desperate sounds she was pulling from Chloe’s throat. She felt the tension coiling, tightening like a spring under her tongue. She could feel the climax building in the trembling thighs under her hands, in the ragged, sobbing breaths above her. She worked her relentlessly, driving her forward, but she held the final peak just out of reach, keeping them both suspended in the exquisite, burning ache.