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Pride, Crisis, Sound
Eight and a half minutes later, after muttering something about " best ever," he kissed her forehead, pulled up his shorts, and rolled over. It hadn't been that badin a lay there until he finishes sort of way. That's what made her feel guilty. It'd be so much easier if he fucked her like a seventeen year old boy during prom night, but the poor guy really tried his best to please her. She waited until the soft snores proved he was asleep to finish what he'd started. If he knew she faked it (every time) it would devastate him.
Helen couldn't sleep (at least after that dream anyway). For hours she'd tossed and turned, trying not to wake her partner. Soft lips pressing on to hers, fingers reaching underneath her shirt, hips grinding against her thigh, nails scratching down her back, low moans escaping her mouth, heat gathering between her legs even her bloody subconscious refused to give her peace. Bite marks on her neck, tender kisses down her belly, hands sliding past her waistband, dark eyes staring into hers, clothes expertly removed, legs gently spread apart, a momentary pause for approval Sean would never do anything like that. Nikki would.
Helen walked down the hallway, took out her keys, and unlocked the cell door. At first she thought the inmate was asleep, so she stepped closer to inspect. Nikki's eyes were closed, and she was breathing in short, quick intervals. Then she saw movement. Nikki's pants were pushed to the side, and her fingers were making quick circular movements around her clit. Helen watched as Nikki's pace increased, her muscles tightened, and as she slid two fingers into her wetness. As her back arched, she opened her mouth to gasp for air. She uttered one word as she came: "Helen."
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