The Pampering She Deserves

Nicole Kitt finally drags her tired ass through the door after another long night at work, and she stops dead in her tracks. Candles. Flowers. Little notes on the stairs, on the kitchen counter, all the way to their bedroom door. Olive’s been busy. She pushes open the bedroom and laughs under her breath; the place looks like a damn spa, dim lights, oil bottles lined up, fresh towels, the works. Only problem is Olive’s already passed out cold on the sheets, half-naked, snoring like she ran a marathon setting it up. Nicole’s chest gets all warm. She kicks off her heels, strips down to nothing, and climbs onto the bed. A few gentle kisses on Olive’s shoulder wake her. Olive blinks, sees the massage table, realizes her plan’s blown, and starts to protest, “Hey, this was supposed to be my treat for you.” Nicole just smirks, plants a hand on Olive’s lower back, and tells her to shut up and roll over—tonight the roles flip. Olive gives in with a sleepy grin. Nicole’s palms are warm with oil; she works slow circles over Olive’s shoulders, down the dip of her spine, then up the sides of those full, natural tits. Olive sighs, legs parting on instinct. Nicole leans in, fingers gliding lower, teasing the soft skin between her thighs until Olive’s hips twitch. They trade lazy kisses, tongues sliding, breath getting heavier. Nicole swings a leg over, straddling Olive’s face while she keeps working that slick cunt with two fingers, and suddenly they’re locked in a hungry sixty-nine—soft moans, wet sounds, bodies rocking together until both women come hard, slick and satisfied, tangled in the sheets like it’s the only place they ever want to be.