Black Widow

Kayla, gray at the edges now, found Angelica's profile—brown waves framing those movie-star eyes—and fired off a dinner invite before she could talk herself out of it. Two single, high-mileage moms locked eyes across the table and went from strangers to bedpost in a single evening. After the last glass of wine they drifted up to Kayla's penthouse and Angelica did a double-take; the blonde liked how shiny the other woman's gaze got seeing all that marble. Kayla peeled Angelica's jacket off with a flourished little bow, eyes snagged on the full tits and soft caramel curves beneath. She was already plotting kisses when Angelica zeroed in on the framed photos stuffed behind cabinet doors. "All those girls your exes?" The question landed like a cinder block. Kayla's grin melted; she had to swallow, pour them something stronger, and steer Angelica to the couch. The story that came out was messy—years of quick hook-ups, breakups, the aching drift that came after—so Angelica, softhearted troublemaker that she was, rested a hand on the other woman's wrist, making silent promises with those huge blue eyes. Sparks hit critical mass. Kayla slipped a hand inside Angelica's cleavage just long enough to tease, then promptly retrieved a bottle of water, strutting like it was a long-held life mission. When she caught the flush on Angelica's cheeks, predatory instinct won; she mapped the brunette's neck with her tongue, flushed her nipples with teeth, gave each big toe a drawn-out suck before settling right between pale thighs and licking Angelica until her hips jumped and honey-sweet slick coated Kayla's grin. Angelica caught her breath, scrambled to the floor, and gave tit-for-tat: soft kisses on the blonde's pedicured feet, then deeper, slower kisses between her legs. Legs spread, Kayla sighed like a woman whose decade-long itch had finally found its scratch. With a playful shove she spun Angelica onto all fours, dove tongue-first between perfect ass cheeks, licking and pressing until Angelica's second orgasm punched her. Later they tangled into sixty-nine, each one savoring the other's drenched, full-lipped heat until the penthouse air smelled of sweat, sugar, and surrender.