Her ass still holds a hint of that tart, loving pink, and Rose leers headlong as Pearl steps out of the shower.
"Wait." The word drops like a ball-and-chain. "You realize I just finished wiping up after you in the hallway," she steps out, too, tone coiling dark, "don't you?"
She reaches: tugs her own towel off the rack on the wall. It isn't by much that Rose is taller, but she wrings dry every inch of difference in the smoky look she pours downwards. "Arms out." Even the kiss she presses to Pearl's forehead feels more like a claim, and she laps a water droplet from her brow before pulling back. Playful, but impatient. "Knees spread."
The toweling is rough. The arms, first, then the shoulders, so quick and businesslike that Pearl's footing is threatened more than once. Even with cloth this fluffy -- and Rose likes her things fluffy -- the perfunctory sweeps over heat-softened flesh has the fabric abrading delectably over Pearl's nipples: waist: ass.
Rose takes her time on these tender places.
"You have twenty seconds," she croons, beginning to crouch down, "after I finish drying you off --" A lean forward brings her lips to Pearl's navel: she hums a kiss, there. Just before beginning work on drying shiver-ripe thighs. "-- to get that edible little butt into bed. Facedown, knees spread. Hands behind your back."
Rose brings the towel higher: lets the fabric rasp deliciously between her thighs. Just for a moment; enough to make her point. Just enough to give this poor, aching, hungry little thing a moment's reprieve.
Well. Just the opposite, actually.
Still crouched -- still humming -- Rose aims a smile up at Pearl that's all hooks and sugar. And begins the countdown.
no subject
"Wait." The word drops like a ball-and-chain. "You realize I just finished wiping up after you in the hallway," she steps out, too, tone coiling dark, "don't you?"
She reaches: tugs her own towel off the rack on the wall. It isn't by much that Rose is taller, but she wrings dry every inch of difference in the smoky look she pours downwards. "Arms out." Even the kiss she presses to Pearl's forehead feels more like a claim, and she laps a water droplet from her brow before pulling back. Playful, but impatient. "Knees spread."
The toweling is rough. The arms, first, then the shoulders, so quick and businesslike that Pearl's footing is threatened more than once. Even with cloth this fluffy -- and Rose likes her things fluffy -- the perfunctory sweeps over heat-softened flesh has the fabric abrading delectably over Pearl's nipples: waist: ass.
Rose takes her time on these tender places.
"You have twenty seconds," she croons, beginning to crouch down, "after I finish drying you off --" A lean forward brings her lips to Pearl's navel: she hums a kiss, there. Just before beginning work on drying shiver-ripe thighs. "-- to get that edible little butt into bed. Facedown, knees spread. Hands behind your back."
Rose brings the towel higher: lets the fabric rasp deliciously between her thighs. Just for a moment; enough to make her point. Just enough to give this poor, aching, hungry little thing a moment's reprieve.
Well. Just the opposite, actually.
Still crouched -- still humming -- Rose aims a smile up at Pearl that's all hooks and sugar. And begins the countdown.
"One..."