The woman was stunning, late 40s but ageless, with porcelain skin, jet-black hair cascading in waves, and crimson lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Of course, darling. XXX “Let’s just get this circus over with.”
The house loomed ahead—three stories of dark stone, ivy choking the walls, stained-glass windows glinting like eyes in the dusk. Do come in.” Lena shook her hand—firm, cool—those nails brushing her skin, sending an involuntary shiver up her arm. Pleasure spiked, sharp and unwanted, clashing with fury and disbelief. “Creepy,” she mumbled, trudging up the short path, her skepticism a shield against the unease prickling her spine. Lena smirked, mid-scribble. Seraphina’s free hand clawed her own dress aside, revealing a shaved pussy under the fishnets, and she rubbed herself, nails glinting as she matched the rhythm.
