"I shouldn't be this addicted," Angelina murmurs, leaning in to capture Jeri's lips for another quick bite. "I'm not complaining." Tongue darts in, retreats – merlot, Marlboro and musk. Angelina. The sound of the zipper is unusually loud in the darkened bedroom. "Fuck..." Reverential whisper. "You like?" Jeri steps out of the pool of fabric, cups lace-clad breasts in long fingers. "You have to ask?" Angelina's fingers replace Jeri's, thumbs brushing over taut nipples. "No." Full lips wrap around full lips, tongues dancing, sliding. Jeri smiles, steps into heat. "We're not about permission." Angelina slithers to her knees, soft hands brushing the velvet skin of muscled thighs. Teeth catch, pull down on French-cut panties. "Fuck permission." Nuzzles soft blonde curls, inhales. "Angie –" Consent, plea. Blue eyes flutter shut, a pointed tongue flicks out, then inside, pushes, tastes the sharp tang. "Beautiful." Soft sigh, hands sinking in silky hair. "Mmm." Lips humming, tongue delving. Jeri's still floating, still vibrating when Angelina slides back up, lips moist, tongue catching between her teeth. "Yeah, you are." "I am?" Forces her eyes open, still riding the wave. Gentle scrape of nails on skin – slow kiss just below Jeri's jawline. "Beautiful."
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