Sweet Valentine

Breana spots Lucille waiting at the door, that familiar smirk already saying she knows exactly what's coming next. They skip any candlelit nonsense tonight. Instead Lucille pushes her onto the couch, drags soft kisses down her neck while her tongue slides hot against bare skin. A hand parts Breana's thighs. The other slips under her skirt like it belongs there. Lucille's lips keep moving, heading south, until she drops between those legs and tastes her with long, slow licks that make every nerve sing. Breana grips the cushion, breathing sharp, hips tilting up to meet every stroke. Wet sounds fill the small room while they forget about anything that isn't mouth meeting cunt, again and again.