~Ava
Amanda’s lips curled, a slow, knowing smile that made my skin prickle. She stepped inside without waiting for an invite, her heels clicking on the cheap linoleum.
The door swung shut behind her, locking us in the dim room, the air still heavy with the scent of Claire’s perfume and my own sweat.
“No man,” she said, voice low, smooth, like she was tasting the words. “Just you, sweetheart.”
I stood there, naked, hair wet, thighs slick, not bothering to cover up. Her eyes roamed, unhurried, taking in every inch, my flushed cheeks, the bite marks on my collarbone, the way my chest rose fast.
She set her purse on the dresser, slow, deliberate, then turned to face me fully.
“Rough day?” she asked, leaning a hip against the wall, dress riding up to show a flash of thigh.
“Rough life,
