Rose watches her back arch with its own lean, pale strength as sweet heat bolts her own skin in sympathy (oh, whimpers are her favorite ). The image of ending the game here is tantalizing. Just pin Pearl to the floor with pleasure: corner her into a frantic, fumbling finish: have her coming in a helpless tangle of limbs: kiss the last scrap of breath from her listless mouth as she came down. And then corner her into another.
(This is a discipline game for Rose, too.)
She lets the stream play cruel and heated and lovely for a few seconds more before thumbing the nozzle off, just as sudden as turning it on.
"Just like that." Then she's rising to her feet -- to all appearances, nonchalant. But patently aware of her own clinging heat and hunger. (She'll have Pearl tend to that. Soon.) Careful, but not looking away from Pearl's face, Rose takes her first step out of the shower. Her fingertips are already playing with the neckline of her damp shirt. "Any questions, sweet thing?"
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(This is a discipline game for Rose, too.)
She lets the stream play cruel and heated and lovely for a few seconds more before thumbing the nozzle off, just as sudden as turning it on.
"Just like that." Then she's rising to her feet -- to all appearances, nonchalant. But patently aware of her own clinging heat and hunger. (She'll have Pearl tend to that. Soon.) Careful, but not looking away from Pearl's face, Rose takes her first step out of the shower. Her fingertips are already playing with the neckline of her damp shirt. "Any questions, sweet thing?"