Sara shifted on me, sliding to the edge of the bed and planting her feet on the floor, her legs spreading wide in front of the cracked mirror propped against the wall. Her stockings still hugged her thighs, the black fabric stretched tight over her skin, and she'd slipped her black lace panties back on, the thin material clinging to her hips.
She leaned back, her bare back pressing into my chest as I sat behind her, my legs splayed around hers.
The room felt smaller now, the air sticky and warm, the dim lights casting a faint glow that bounced off the mirror, framing us in its reflection.
"Hand inside… my panties," she commanded, her voice firm, a smirk tugging at her lips as she tilted her head back against my shoulder. Her eyes flicked to the mirror, watching, waiting.
I swallowed hard, my pulse kicking up as I slid my hand down, slipping it under the lace from behind, my fingers brushing her skin before finding her hole—still wet, still warm from before.
