Chapter Text
You could hear Janice’s sarcastic voice in your head, “Oh, Gretchen’s party’s not fun? Shocker.” You can practically hear her eyes rolling, too. But you were here as the captain of the soccer team that won their game today. Only that it was the point of the night where the novelty was beginning to wear off, the music was a little bit too loud, and the people who went a bit too hard mixing drinks at the start were getting sloppy. You were starting to get irritated at your friends who thought it was amusing run off and get not message you back, and there was a feeling in the air that trouble was brewing. This night was supposed to be fun. But right now, it just felt like an obstacle between you and your bed. A long night to end a long day.
The soccer match you’d played hours earlier was a tough game; you could still feel it in your legs—and no doubt you’d feel like you’d been hit by a bus tomorrow. It was nil all and heading for penalties until you to win the ball with a half a minute to spare and sent it up the left wing toward your team’s star-forward. She converted and won your team the game just as the extra time ended. You were all here to celebrate—honestly you would have all come to drown your sorrows if you’d lost but it was nice to arrive to a few cheers and pats on the back.
Most of the starting eleven and the core squad were seniors this year, there were some juniors that were cool, and some freakishly good underclassmen, but most of you were winding up your high school experience, so there was a decided effort to go out with a bang. The football boys and other testosterone-fueled jock-types had a senior-year must-do list, which you girls, in all your infinite wisdom, decided to copy: get titles, glow up, get laid. You’d made it more concise and way less problematic, but, in essence, it was the same thing. Some would say that there was even a bit of healthy competition between the boys and the girls to see who could get the most out of their senior seasons.
So far, the titles were the easiest part. For you, training hard and playing well were straightforward; sleep enough, eat some vegetables, and drink more water than coffee—these things weren’t rocket science. And, luckily, all that shit was good for your skin, too, so the glow up wasn’t going too badly either. Teenage girls are world-leading experts in all matters of glowing up, after all, and while many would preach an internal energy shift being the key component of leaving your awkward, not-hot, young and immature vibe behind, it was a well-known fact that what you really needed was a face-framing haircut and one amazing pair of pants.
Getting laid unfortunately involved other people, so it was decidedly less straightforward. A bit like writing a story for English class, there was the ‘who, what, when, where, and why’ of it all. The girls with boyfriends offered one pathway—just pick a not-awful dude and get on with it. Some of the other girls had friends who went to other schools, so hooked up with people they’d never have to see around the halls of Northshore. The goalie had a girlfriend out of state, so she reckoned that getting together with somebody after a bit of tension had its appeal, but you just didn’t know what to do. You’d rather be mocked as a prude before getting a boyfriend, first of all, and none of your friends who you had from other schools were really party or hook-up types—all of the out queer not-men were in relationships, including Janice, who once suggested that she could be the one to ‘help you tick the stupid box on your dumb list’ if she had a chat with her girlfriend. As much as you loved Janice, she wasn’t the one you had your eye on.
No, in a severe lapse of sanity and judgement, you had found yourself crushing on Northshore’s ‘it girl’ Regina George. You knew each other a little bit, having been partners in poli-sci in junior year. Besides, Gretchen knew everything about everyone, so even before then she would at least have had a vague understanding about who you were; there weren’t many art-freaks on the soccer team. You’d been made captain of the soccer team for senior year, though, and she’d followed you on Instagram shortly after that had happened. She was said to be mean; she was known to be judgemental; parents and teachers called her ‘a bad influence’ and Janice called her ‘a total bitch’. She was also fucking hot.
And, you noticed, she was crossing through the make-shift dance floor headed in your direction. She had a wicked glint in her eyes, and a red solo cup in hand. Her outfit left little to the imagination, she looked like a goddess wrapped in the night sky—all diamantes and skin-tight mesh. The matching bra and disco pants looked like they were made for her. You raked your eyes up her body quickly, locking eyes just as she put her free hand on the door frame behind you.
“Hello, captain,” she smirked, “you’re standing there like a fucking loser, you know. Lighten up, you won today,” she said mockingly peering into your cup, “have you even toasted to your success?”
You had, but now the beer in the keg was warm, which made it double gross, and the punch smelled questionable, so you’d switched to lemonade. “Regina,” you said flatly, you opted to keep your tone light and a little sarcastic which would give you room to play once you figured out what her angle was, “Good news travels fast, it would seem.”
“Oh, baby, you have no idea! I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere.” She matched your tone, leaning in with a flash of perfect, white teeth. “The fucking smell of unwashed teenage boy isn’t enough to mask the fact that you’re nursing lemonade—lame,” she scrunched her nose and dumped a few shots of something clear into your cup from her own, “however, easily fixed so I’ll forgive you.”
“Okay, whatever the fuck that is” you sniff it suspiciously, “it better not be the paint-stripper that was being passed off as liquor—”
“No, god no, mommy B.Y.O’d, its top-shelf. I wouldn’t be caught dead drinking that shit.” She ran her tongue over her teeth, and tossed her hair behind her shoulder, “I’m going do the unthinkable, actually, and compromise with you,” she snarked, “don’t tell anyone or they’ll accuse me of getting soft.” She took your cup and poured the rest of her drink into it, “We’re both going to have vodka lemonades, then you’re going to dance with me.” She thrust the drink back at you with a wink.
You took it, drinking deeply to distract from the blush that was surely spreading across your cheeks due to her extended and focussed attention.
“Good girl,” she cooed, which just about caused you to choke. She leaned in, so she could whisper in your ear. “This is why I like girls baby, girls can look at my tits and manage to listen to my instructions.” She laughed when she pulled back and looked at my shocked face, “Its okay, baby, you weren’t exactly subtle,” she sculled her drink, then grinned wolfishly, “C’mon, if you play your cards right, I might even let you touch.”
You laughed and shook your head softly, at a loss for what to say. “If I play my hand wrong, you’ll put my head on a spike, dude, I don’t want any trouble,” you half-joked.
“I think you do, baby,” she quipped, “And I want one of those strong thighs slotted in-between mine in the next ten seconds.” She hooked her pointer and middle fingers into your beltloops and tugged you flush to her front, “So you’d better come to the fucking dancefloor.”
You dutifully finished your drink and looked around you for a surface to placing the cup down on.
She rolled her eyes, “The floor, nerd, it’s not littering if you’re inside.”
You dropped the cup, smiling sheepishly at Regina, who’s hands were on your stomach with her fingers pressing into your hips. You flexed your abs, partly as a reaction and also to show off. If she liked muscles, well… that was something you could work with, a way you could toy with her in your own quiet way. Her bravado slipped for a literal nanosecond as she looked down at her hands with a faint look of surprise flashing across her face. You took the moment, and placed your hands on her hips, grinning when she looked back up, “Let’s dance."
She let you walk her backwards into the crush of bodies—each pair or group far too absorbed in their own little world to bother about who you were or what you were doing. Under the lights you noticed the scatter of cosmetic glitter Regina had on; the bronze picking up the unusual flecks of green and brown that were so often lost in the blue of her eyes. It made you smile. She quirked a brow at you.
“The glitter makes all the little colours in your eyes come alive,” you shrugged, “the blue is pretty, but I mean the flecks, the green and the brown—or, like, bronze I guess—”
She looked smug, rolling her eyes, “A complement on my eyes, what a panty dropper.”
Alcohol always did go to your head quickly, you cursed the way your thoughts were already starting to swirl, “No, I mean I didn’t notice the glitter before—”
“So, you don’t think I’m pretty?” she prodded, mocking your stammering. She feigned hurt by down turning her mouth but there was laughter in her eyes.
“That’s not—no, I mean, yes. Hot, you’re—"
“Ugh, c’mere,” she cut you off, pulling you into her by the waist, then placed her wrists on your shoulders, wrapping her fingers up into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Why don’t you kiss me about it, then, if you can’t tell me.”
Regina was not to be trusted, Regina was mean, Regina was bad news—you knew all these things. But the kiss? Good.
Her lips were soft, full, and wanting; she tasted like lemonade and lip-gloss and pure fucking power. She rocked forward to grind into your leg, while her hands roamed; they were hardly still for a second—one moment her fingers splayed across your stomach, then the next they squeezed your waist, before sliding into the back pockets of your jeans to grope your ass. She was just a little bit taller than you, so it felt like she was pulling you up into her—you felt almost dizzy. It could be the heat, the vodka, or want. Probably all of the above. You ran your fingertips up her arms and toyed briefly with the strap of her top loose off her shoulder before pushing it back in place. The ends of her platinum blonde hair tickled your arms where they were draped across her shoulders.
The feeling of her teeth sinking into your bottom lip and pulling was grounding, it reminded you that you needed to breathe. You looked up at her after chasing her lips, her pupils were blown wide but a wolfish smirk was spreading across her face. “Don’t you look pretty like this, baby,” she murmured, stilling the rocking of her hips but pressing hard down into your thigh, “And we’re just getting started.”
You were struggling to form any coherent thoughts beyond holy shit, and I swear I’ve heard this song twice already, but you were cognisant enough to appreciate that Regina likely didn’t want to chat about the music right now, “I, um—”
“You, yeah, I have plans for you.” She kissed the corner of your jaw, before scraping her teeth lightly on the skin, “but you’ve got to listen, okay?” You could feel her smile into your neck as you nodded, “Good.” She sighed as you adjusted your stance to give her more pressure, one of her hands slid out of your back pocket and up to rest on your neck. “I know about the fucking jock’s senior bucket list, okay, and I know that you girls have your own version,” her thumb stroked across your cheekbone whilst her fingernails dug into your neck. You groaned, which made her chuckle, “I’m not a conquest, baby, you understand? I picked you.”
She was waiting for you to reply, you wanted to explain, “No, I—”
“No?” Her grip tightened.
“I mean yes, shit,” your eyes flew open, realising your mistake, you were relieved to see that while her tone was dead serious, her eyes were laughing, “I’ve got it.”
“Tell me your version, captain, see if Gretchen heard it right,” she tilted your chin up, “What is it?”
With your neck stretched up, it was hard to swallow. You had no choice but to look her in the eyes, “Get titles, glow up, get laid.” It sounded so douchey.
“Huh,” she exclaimed softly, “That certainly is concise.” She released your chin and returned her hand to your ass. “You’ve already played a game today, but I wanna play another. You’ll have a shot to earn more than a shitty pennant.” She rolled her hips hard, “Say ‘yes’.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
She hummed and captured your lips in another languid kiss. You were desperate to please her, and kissed her like there was nothing in the world you’d rather be doing. She eventually let you come up for air, “You’re gonna go upstairs. Count three doors down from Gretchen’s on the landing, I’m not having the rumour mill kick off this quickly so you’re going to go up there alone. I’ve got some shit to grab from my car and then I’ll follow you up.”
Your heart thumped so hard you wondered if she could hear it. “Now?”
She rolled her eyes, then kissed you sweetly as she gave your ass a final squeeze. She spun you around in the crush if bodies, her chest pressing into your back, “If it’s not empty,” she whispered, “wait on the loveseat.” She pushed you away from her, toward the stairs.
You knew better than to look back, so just squeezed your way to the staircase and ascended as per Regina’s instructions. The upstairs was far less populated than the floor below, but it wasn’t empty. Gretchen’s room was obvious, she had her door decorated—you counted down the landing for the room Regina had sent you to. Unbidden, the thought came to you that she might be setting you up for something embarrassing; you knew better than to blindly trust the girl. You straightened your clothes and wiped her lip-gloss off your face and neck, but without a mirror that was the best you could do.
It would attract attention to sit alone up here—attention you didn’t want because doubtless there would be questions like Who are you waiting for? or What are you doing up here? which you really didn’t want to think up lies to answer. So, when you tried the handle of the door, you were relieved to find it unlocked. Still, you braced yourself for phone cameras or some of Regina’s sycophants laughing; none came. The room remained shadowy and quiet. Echoey, even.
You flipped the lights on.
It was a bathroom. You did not expect a bathroom but locked the door behind you out of habit—habit and self-preservation. You re-traced your steps on the landing, picturing the doors; this was definitely where Regina sent you. You noticed an adjoining internal door, which was locked from the other side—which, an ear to the door all but confirmed was also empty.
You decided to wait and see what happened. If nothing else, it was as good an opportunity to put a bit of order on your appearance. You ran the tap and washed your hands, wetting then so that you could wipe away some of the mascara and eyeliner that had begun to smudge below your eyes more easily, and smooth down your hair a little. You noticed from your reflection that your lips looked a little bruised but a break from the crush of bodies downstairs had seen your flush begin to recede. Your head even felt a little clearer for the cooler air. You heard Gretchen’s voice on the landing—
“You can totally have my room, Gina, like, I know your neck is still a bit fucked but, like, if you just need a chill it’s more comfy and all yours no problem—”
“Nah, girl, I clocked you batting your lashes at that footballer,” Regina replied, “you might want it still, he’s pretty for a meathead.”
Their voices were getting closer.
“You think?” Gretchen squealed, “You think he might like me a bit?”
“Yeah, babe, but listen it’s not the Medieval Times,” you could hear Regina rolling her eyes,” just make your fucking move, okay? I wanna hear all the goss later.” She managed to sound sincere.
“Oh my god, of course,” Gretchen cooed, “well, room’s all yours, G, text me of you need anything, ‘kay?”
“Sure,” Regina said, “If I hear you fucking, I’ll text Karen.”
There was a brief rattle of keys, as Gretchen unlocked the door next to the bathroom you were in. You heard the light flip on, and Regina close the door behind her. It was another minute before the internal door swung open to reveal Regina, and the dimly lit spare room behind you.
She looked extremely pleased, leaning a shoulder and hip to the doorframe. “Hi, baby,” her was hair a blonde cascade, the white lights of the bathroom picking up the sparkle of her eyes, her teeth, and all the little crystals on her clothes, “good listening.”
You laughed off the praise, feeling more flustered than you cared to admit. “I wondered what the fuck I was doing in a bathroom, but this is beginning to make sense,” you replied, wiping your hands on the towel draped over the bath, “thought you might have stitched me up there for a sec.” You couldn’t help the slightly insecure tone that crept into your voice, despite your efforts to sound light-hearted.
She pressed a hand to her chest in faux shock, mouth agape, “Never!” But a smirk was swift to follow, “Not you, anyway.” She beckoned you toward her, with a crook of her finger and a raised brow, you moved slowly into her space, allowing her to lean past you to turn off the bathroom light, and take you by the hand and lead you into the room beyond, “No, I just needed Gretchen to let me in. She didn’t want every socially relevant but embarrassingly horny teenager in Northshore fucking in her parent’s spare room.”
It was a big bedroom, very plain—all muted browns with white sheets and walls—save for Regina’s denim Versace bag that she’d discarded on a grey-suede armchair by the door. The overhead light was off, but a floor-lamp in the far corner of the room was on low, bathing the room in a warm amber hue. You had but a moment to take in the space before you were pushed up against the now-closed connecting door. Regina pinned your wrists to the door, low, by your hips.
“So,” she purred, “you’ve proven you can listen and that trust me at least a little,” she tilted her head and leaned in so close to you that her lips brushed the shell of your ear, “and now I’ve got to see you laid out on that bed, baby.” She bit down lightly on your earlobe, “Your gonna take your clothes off, and I’m gonna take a long, hard, look at that body that I’ve wanted for months.” She let your wrists got so that she could start working on undoing the buttons of your jeans.
You cupped her cheek gently, “Months?” It was a pathetic sound, more of a sigh than a question. She was pulling your waistband loose from your hips and moving on to the buttons of your shirt.
“The lake,” she explained, as though it was obvious. When you continued to stare at her blankly, she continued, “just after I followed you, you were posting from the lake. One of your freak friends had a public account, so I had Gretchen stalk, and she sent screenshots of you,” she pushed the shirt off your shoulders to the floor and aggressively tugged on the cropped tank top beneath it, rushing to get it off. “You were in the smallest fucking bikini I’d ever seen,” she said, “and I hardly recognised you without the layers—get this off, now,” she snapped. You peeled the offending article off, dropping it to the floor. You were in the same amount of clothes as Regina, now, though she was still technically fully dressed. She hummed, placated, “I knew you were a pretty faced lesbian jock, baby, but I didn’t realise you were hot.”
You rolled your eyes, and tried to kiss her—the weight of her gaze was too much—but she grabbed you by the chin all but an inch from her lips. “You kept this,” Her fingers danced down along the seams of your bra, and fluttered down your torso “pretty fucking quiet.” She grasped both sides of the open zipper of your jeans to yank your pelvis into hers. The motion made her tits threaten to spill out of her tiny top. You vaguely felt the delicious scratch of the diamantes on her high-waisted against your stomach, she was pressing into you hard.
“Wasn’t me doing all your poli-sci homework last year, then, no?” You murmured into her neck.
“The dedication was sweet, baby, and I intend to put you to work again, but I’m not here ‘cause of your brain.” She tutted when you kissed her neck, even though it caused her to shiver, “No marks that these clothes can’t cover,” her tone sharp, there was no hint of a joke, “or I’ll fucking end you.”
You peppered featherlight kisses down to her collarbone, “Huh, shallow,” you smirked.
“Yeah, problem?” She retorted, sliding her hands onto your ass under the waistband of your jeans, so she could snap the elastic of the underwear.
You shook your head, “Didn’t think so."
“I’m glad you followed me, then.”
"Go sit, by the time we leave here you’ll be glad I did a lot of things.” She gestured to the bed, pulling away from you, “Jeans off. Leave your underwear, can’t have you make a mess on the carpet.” She took a couple of backward steps before turning on her heel and sauntering over to her bag.
You felt a little unsteady crossing the room to sit on the bed, without Regina pressed against you, or the door to your back you were acutely aware of how naked you were. Nevertheless, you kicked off your sneakers and tugged off your jeans and sat on the end of the bed, leaning back on your hands with your legs crossed at the ankle.
Regina still had her back to you. You took the moment to study the perfect curve of her silhouette. You ached to reach out and touch her when you realised that the slightly sheer fabric of the trousers allowed the outline of her thong to show through; it was a crime for a body like hers to be covered up. She must’ve felt you undressing her with your eyes.
She glanced over her shoulder at you, “Ass is crazy, right?”
“Crazy,” you agreed, dazed. She turned to face you, leaving the bag alone, you were struck by just how pretty she was, “You’re beautiful, Regina, truly.” It was out of your mouth before you could consider the implications of offering a sincere complement.
She smiled sweetly, and tossed her hair behind her shoulders, “Thank you, baby.” She stopped short of the bed by a few feet, too far away to touch, she just stood and checked you out. “All you’ve gotta do is what I tell you.”
You sat up, straight backed, and uncrossed your ankles, “I can do that.”
“I know.” She unzipped her Doc Martens and kicked them off by your jeans. She took a final step to stand between your legs, reaching out to stroke a finger under your chin. “Take these off me,” she said, running her other hand down her thigh. You broke eye-contact with her only to hook your thumbs into her waistband, snapping your eyes back to hers to watch her pupils blow out as you dragged the fabric down her waist, “Take the thong, too, baby, its practically ruined already.” You gathered the scrap of lace under you fingertips as you eased the whole lot over her hips, and down her thighs.
You were breathless already, god she was so beautiful—and so confident, too. She looked like a marble statue that you might see in a museum; pale, perfect, and imposing. Your whole body throbbed in want. “Can I—”
She grinned and lowered herself onto your lap; the heat off her body felt incredible. “You can kiss me, first, but careful with my neck ‘kay? It’s fucked.”
You groaned as she ground—wet and needy—into your thigh. “Course, yeah, just tell me—”
“Oh, baby, I intend to.” She pulled your hair lightly where her fingers had settled at the nape of your neck and captured your lips in a heated kiss. She licked into your mouth, sighing through her nose.
You matched her intensity gladly, and scraped your nails on her thighs; glancing up at her between kisses, you saw her head was thrown back and her brow furrowed. You settled your hands on her ass, to guide the rolls of her hips.
That made her whine.
“Fuck, baby, so good,” she moaned, “too good,” she stilled her hips. She took a deep breath, and laughed mirthlessly, “Wanna make you work for it.”
You admired her self-control, “Whatever you want, ‘Gina, I’ll savour every second,” you felt yourself grin like an idiot.
For the first time, she flushed, a delicious shade of pink that spread from her chest right up to her cheeks, “Shit, god okay, fuck,” she shook her head as she lifted off your lap, “get on your knees. Start with your tongue,” she stood for a moment looking down at you, “I’ll ask for your fingers when I want ‘em.”
You stood to face her. “Sounds good,” you whispered, before kissing her languidly, pulling her around so that the back of her legs pressed into the bed. “So pretty, G,” you murmured, as you felt her pull out of the kiss and sink into the bed. You sank to your knees, nudging her thighs apart.
“Fuck me about it, then,” she whined impatiently, “and lemme see those eyes, baby.”
You kissed your way up from the inside of her knees, cleaning up the arousal that had spread down her thighs with your tongue. You lost yourself in the heat and the want until a firm tug at your scalp reminded you of Regina’s impatience. You chuckled and blew cool air lightly on her engorged clit, which made her slur a string of profanities.
You waisted no more time, after that, and ate her out like your life depended on it. You watched her every move, even though you doubted she was watching you through her half-shut eyes.
And god Regina was noisy—thank goodness the music downstairs was so loud. She was so responsive; she barely stopped whiling and moaning the whole time—an even split of praises and curses. You groaned into her, which made her shiver.
She quickly demanded your fingers so she could grind her clit against your tongue and get stimulation on her g-spot. The sounds your fingers made pumping in and out of her were lewd.
You didn’t spare a moment to notice the ache in the muscles of your jaw or arm, the stiffness in your knees, or the way your own clit begged for attention. All you were concerned about was her pleasure.
“Right fucking there, baby, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop, just like that,” she cried, as her legs shook and her cunt clenched and fluttered around your fingers. “Fuck, shit-fucking damnit, fuck, fuck, fuck—” she opened her mouth as she came, a silent scream marking her climax. “Lemme ride it out, baby, slow but don’t stop yet,” you eased up, moving with no less pressure but a lot less pace.
She threw her head back with a broken moan, “Hands to yourself, now, I just—” she sucked in a breath when you pulled out but, “Kiss my cunt, baby, leave my clit for now,” she slurred, stilling her hips.
You slid your arms in under her to adjust your leverage and lapped at her with your tongue flat and relaxed.
She twitched and shivered, running her fingers through your hair, “Perfect, yeah, shit.” She closed her eyes as she came a second time all over your mouth and chin with a deep, broken moan. You kissed the inside of her thigh, her mons, and her hip bone as she tugged on your hair.
“Beautiful,” you breathed, placing a kiss on her tummy.
She unclasped her top and tossed it away.
You peppered kisses across her chest, licking lightly at one nipple before blowing cool air to make it raise; you circled the other with your thumb. You didn’t break eye contact at all. “Absolutely gorgeous.” You swapped side, affording the same attention to both breasts.
Regina pushed up into your mouth and hands, back arched. She looked wrecked. She removed her hands from your hair and leaned back onto her elbows, scooting more toward the centre of the bed— “C’mere and kiss me for a minute.”
You straddled her hips and leaned down to meet her, careful to put as little strain on her neck as possible. She kissed you passionately, licking herself off your lips. She chased the kiss as you pulled slowly back up to sitting.
You broke off the kiss so that you could take off your bra, she had to help you get it off over your head because it was half-stuck to the sweat on your skin, but you quickly forgot any awkwardness when she gave your tits a squeeze and you felt skin on skin.
“Sit right there, and I’ll rub your clit,” she said softly, pushing your underwear to the side, “you look so pretty, angel, but not quite desperate enough.” She spread you open with lazy circles, you were completely slick with arousal, so she had to apply a decent ammout of pressure to keep contact, but she deliberately moved away from your clit every few seconds. It was maddening.
“Regina, I’m going to fucking die if you keep that up,” you whined. “Please just let me cum, too.”
“Aw, I know, but you feel so good for me.” She pouted, leaning up to kiss you, “I’m just gonna—” she pushed two fingers into you, “fill you up a little, hear some pretty noises, and then I’ll let you finish.”
You groaned, rolling your hips so that your clit would grind against the heel of her hand.
“So desperate you’d fuck yourself on my fingers, my goodness,” she purred, “so hot, baby.”
She scraped her nails up and down your back, before settling her free hand on your hip.
There was no point kissing after that, all you were doing was moaning into her mouth, so you just rested your head against hers, with your lips brushing her ear.
She squeezed your hips and pressed into your g-spot harder every time you made a noise, so you meant to make the most of the quiet sounds you let escape. She kissed your cheek, “Cum for me now angel, I can feel your legs shaking and fluttering so beautifully on my fingers.”
You hadn’t even noticed. You’d only felt the heat in your belly intensify and your clit aching.
“Let go for me,” she demanded, rubbing circles on your clit with her thumb, “show me how good you feel.”
You hadn’t denied her anything else tonight, and you weren’t about to start now. “Shit,” you cursed softly, arching into her touch. You came hard, all over her hand.
Regina pumped her fingers in and out slowly but left your clit alone. “God, so perfect for me.”