It was a tight, black number that clung to her body like a second skin, accentuating every curve and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. She threw an arm around his shoulders and said, “You’re with me, it looks like.”
Lauren, of course, made a grand show of it. “Hi, hi.”
Kehlani danced up the steps, literally. “Now, take your cock in your hand,” Sommer instructed, her husky voice dropping an octave. “You have a 94.7% chance of disliking this—” he began, but Emerson had already dragged him through the front door. “Sorry, I had to curate a look,” she said breezily. This was just one more battle to be won. That’s your job, got it? “Cum for me,” she begged, her voice now a sham. Her sneakers were pristine white, and she smelled like vanilla body spray and pure rebellion. Her eyes closed briefly as she bit her bottom lip, her breathing growing more ragged.
