Addicted2Girls
Kayla Paige, Kiara Cole Pic(s)
The air in the room grew thick with the scent of lemon polish and the faint, sweet perfume of her skin as she knelt to wipe a stray droplet from the floor, her movements slow and deliberate. Her employer watched, motionless, from the doorway, her gaze a tangible heat that traced the curve of the kneeling woman’s spine through the thin fabric of her uniform. A soft sigh escaped her lips, not from exertion but from the intensity of that silent observation, a sound that seemed to hang in the space between them. She felt a flush creep up her neck, a warm acknowledgment of the power shifting in the quiet hum of the afternoon. Without a word, the woman in the doorway crossed the room, her shadow falling over the maid like a gentle command, and her fingers, cool and sure, brushed agat the heated skin of a bared shoulder. The touch was electric, a silent question that demanded no answer but the slight arching of a back, a surrender to the exploration of a calloused thumb along a collarbone. The cleaning cloth slipped from a limp hand as the world narrowed to the whisper of breath agat an ear and the promise of a mouth soon to follow. Every nerve ending sang with anticipation, alive to the possibility of a touch that would move from respectful to possessive in the span of a single, shared heartbeat. In that suspended moment, the boundaries of servant and mistress dissolved into the simple, aching truth of two bodies drawn together by an irresistible, magnetic pull.
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