Chapter 33: Sara’s Dominance (R-18)
Our lips crashed together, the kiss rough and messy, her beer-soaked breath mixing with mine as I grabbed her waist, my hands digging into her hips.
Sara pulled me, stumbling us back until her spine hit the wall with a dull thud. I slid my palms down, grabbing her thighs—firm, warm under her denim skirt—and hoisted them up, wrapping them around my waist.
She locked her boots behind my back, and we kissed and kissed, a frantic tangle of lips and heat, the air thick with the brothel's musk scent and her sharp perfume.
She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her lips brushing mine as she smirked, her eyes glinting wicked.
"So the baby does know how to kiss a woman," she said, her voice low and taunting, her fingers tracing my jaw like she was testing me.
"Hufff," I exhaled hard, my chest heaving, my hands still gripping her thighs as I met her stare. "Obviously—I work at a brothel," I said, no point hiding it now.
Sweat prickled my neck, my hairs tipped ahead from the heat of her pulling at me.
"Let's see how good you really are, then," she said, her smirk widening, a challenge sparking in her tone.
She pushed off the wall, slipping out of my grip, her boots clicking as she turned and walked toward the bed. She stopped at the edge, her back to me, and reached for her denim skirt.