Riley rode Maya’s fingers hard, grinding down until her own wetness coated Maya’s hand and wrist. She came with a low, broken moan, cunt clamping tight, flooding Maya’s palm. She didn’t stop moving until every last pulse was milked out.

Then she collapsed beside her, both of them sticky, panting, the cheap motel sheets wrecked.

For a long moment neither spoke. The rain had finally slowed to a soft hiss against the window.

Maya stared at the ceiling, heart still racing, the taste of her own orgasm and Riley’s still on her tongue. Guilt sat heavy in her chest… right next to the darker, hotter thing that refused to die....