"You always pick such light material," Rose tuts, but obliges the reprimand all the same, staying mindful of the pressure behind her fingertips. She likes to get sloppy sometimes, in moments of heat and urgency -- but the night is quiet and cool, and Pearl is so very small in her arms. She'll be gentle, tonight.

The garment carefully peeled away, she sets it aside on the sand. Her hands settle over Pearl's bare waist, buzzing with warmth beneath her palms, so slender that her thumbs nearly touch. Rose lets out an enamored little sigh, brushing circles over the flat plane of her stomach.

"Which do you like more, Pearl? My mouth or my hands?"