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“Hey,” her voice purred through the speaker, smooth and sweet like honey melting in my ears. Just hearing her made my spine straighten with

anticipation.

“What’s up, babe? Missing your Girl?” I shot back with a grin tugging at my lips, my tone teasing and wicked.

“Maybe…” she drawled, all syrup and sin. “Wanna come over and pour a little sugar on me?”

My breath caught, my heart stuttered. That voice so casual, so charged.

“Give me a few minutes,” I murmured, already reaching for my keys. “I’ll be right there.”

Claire and I had been on a delicious downward spiral lately clubbing till dawn, trading kisses with strangers, waking up in unfamiliar beds and

slipping out before the sun could judge us. But lately… it was just her.

Just us. The nights were still wild, but the mornings didn’t feel like escapes they felt like addiction.

Twenty minutes later, I stepped into Claire’s sleek Midtown apartment, the door clicking shut behind me.

And there she was leaning lazily against the kitchen counter, barefoot, legs on full display in tiny black shorts and a barely-there white camisole that clung to her body like second skin.

Her dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulder, catching the low light and casting shadows over her soft, glowing skin. She was breathtaking. Dangerous.

And she knew it.

“Hi, Heather,” she said, her voice low, almost intimate.

She leaned in, brushing her lips against mine just a whisper of a kiss.

Barely there. But it sent a bolt of electricity straight to my core.

I almost lost it.

My hands twitched at my sides, aching to grab her, to pin her against the nearest surface and taste every inch of that teasing mouth. But I held back barely. Because something told me this tension… this slow burn… was exactly what she wanted.

We ate dinner together, the air between us charged with unspoken thoughts and hungry looks. She’d lick her lips after every bite slowly, deliberately. And every time, my eyes were magnetized to her mouth, watching that pink tongue flick out, watching her lips glisten. My thighs pressed together instinctively, desperate for some kind of friction. I wanted her lips on mine. On every inch of me.

After dinner, we cracked open a second bottle of wine and curled up on the couch, watching Dirty Dancing. The wine, the warmth, the soft glow of the screen it all blurred into something electric.

We

laughed. We cried. And when the tears came, Claire reached out and gently brushed my hair away from my damp cheeks. She pressed a napkin to

my face, her touch tender, her face so close I could feel her breath on my skin.

Our eyes locked. Time stopped.

I could see the question in her gaze. I could feel the pull the hunger.

She wanted to kiss me.

And my whole body was screaming: Let her.

Was she going to kiss me? And... did I want her to?

No. I needed her to.

Every inch of me was tuned to her frequency, strung tight with want.

Claire moved closer, her presence a magnetic pull I couldn't resist. The air between us hummed, charged with tension and barely restrained desire.

“You have beautiful eyes,” she said softly, her hand landing on my thigh

with feather-light pressure. “It’s nice… being alone with you tonight.”

My breath caught, and heat flooded my veins. Her touch ignited something deep and wild inside me. I wanted her lips on mine. I wanted to feel her lose herself in me. I wanted to go where only she could take me.

Then she stood, breaking the spell.

“Another drink?” she asked casually, like she hadn’t just turned my whole body into a live wire.

“Y-yes,” I breathed, equal parts relieved and aching.

She disappeared into the kitchen, and I used the moment to catch my breath

barely. My thoughts were spinning, every nerve thrumming with

possibility.

Are we really going to do this? Because I want this I want her.

Claire returned, wine glasses in hand. She handed me mine, and I placed it on the table without taking a sip. My eyes were on her.

She took a slow drink of hers, then met my gaze with a knowing smile.

“So,” she said, her voice like silk slipping along my skin, “where were we? Ah, yes… I was about to kiss you.”

Time stopped.

Then her lips were on mine, warm and soft, coaxing mine apart. The kiss was gentle at first an invitation. But then it deepened, her tongue finding mine in a rhythm that sent sparks down my spine. One of her hands came up to cradle my cheek as we melted into each other.

She pulled back slowly, her eyes holding mine. I was wrecked. Completely undone.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, her voice low and intimate.

I nodded, barely able to breathe. “More,” I whispered. It was the only word I had left.

She sank to her knees between my legs, her lips finding mine again firmer now, hungrier. Our tongues tangled, teasing, tasting. Her hands slid beneath my sweatshirt, brushing against my bare skin, then lifting,

exploring.

She found my breasts and cupped them gently, her thumbs brushing over my nipples until I arched into her touch. Her fingers slipped beneath the lace of my bra, pulling me free, caressing with a reverence that stole my breath.

Then her lips were on my neck, and I was gone. Completely lost to the way she touched me like she’d studied

the map of my body and was eager to rediscover every landmark.

She pulled off my top, then reached around and unclasped my bra, letting it

fall away. Claire stood and began to undo the buttons of her dress.

I watched, hypnotized, as it slid from her shoulders and pooled at her feet.

She

wore a black lace set delicate suspenders, matching bra, and panties

that hugged her like a second skin. She looked like a goddess dressed in

sin, and I wanted nothing more than to worship her.

I stripped off my sweats, self-conscious for a moment until Claire gave me that look, hungry and bold.

She tore my plain underwear away and laid me down, slow and deliberate.

Her mouth followed, kissing every inch of me with aching patience. Her lips explored my body like it was the first time she’d ever touched anyone, discovering places even I didn’t know could feel so alive.

Before she even reached my breasts, I was trembling.

Then she sucked one nipple into her mouth, and I cried out loud and unfiltered.

That only spurred her on.

Her hand slipped between my legs, fingers tracing my heat, parting me gently.

She circled my clit, teasing, stroking, until I was writhing, whispering her name like a prayer.

And when she finally slid two fingers inside me slow, deep, perfect I shattered in her hands.

My body pulsed and curled around her as she guided me through every wave, her mouth never leaving my skin.

When I opened my eyes, she was standing above me, holding out her hand.

No words were needed.

I rose and followed her to the bedroom, heart pounding, body still humming.

Whatever happened next I was hers.