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somehow that Adalynn could give it to her.

Adalynn’s hands were sure and steady as she slid them

below Cassia’s sodden hoodie. She pushed the wet fabric up

and Cassia raised her arms. She bit her lip as her sweater came

off. She wasn’t wearing a bra under her tank top, since it was

tight and had built-in cups meant to replace one. With the

baggy hoodie on, she knew no one would know. But Adalynn

knew. Cassia could feel how pebbled her nipples were and one

glance down at herself confirmed the pucker through her shirt.

The cool air of the kitchen rushed up to meet the wet fabric,

further exaggerating those stiff peaks.

“God,” Cassia moaned as Adalynn’s hands started working

her jeans open. Her thoughts were a racetrack, and she was in

an out-of-control car, zooming at high speeds, the possibility

of crashing incredibly high.

Adalynn pushed the soft, worn denim down Cassia’s

trembling thighs. She shuddered as Adalynn somehow made

an art out of something that should have been very awkward.

Jeans were never an easy to thing to get off when they were

tight.

Cassia thought of the night in Vegas, how Adalynn had

thrown her to the bed, how she’d spread her legs and feasted

on her pussy. Cassia didn’t know it was possible to feel such

pleasure. Her own fingers were a poor substitute and had been

ever since that night. Her frustration was at a boiling point,

and with Adalynn staring at the scrap of her lace panties, it

made Cassia ache to the point where she wasn’t sure if she

could bear it.

Adalynn ran her hand up Cassia’s leg, causing a volley of

shivers and goosebumps to rise on her skin. She threw back