Bedtime

Gia stands in the doorway like innocence itself, but we both know the game. That yawn was fake. The second she’s alone, the door closes and the silk slides off her shoulders. Blonde hair loose, black lace still hugging her hips, she sinks onto the bed with a sigh that’s already turning into something else. Her fingers slip under the lingerie, tracing the heat she’s been carrying all evening. Legs part. Eyes close. The brunette shadows in the mirror watch her touch herself slow, deliberate, working the wet between her thighs with practiced little circles. She bites her lip, keeps it quiet, but the sheets are already damp and her breath’s gone ragged. Just a teen in expensive underwear, chasing the pulse that won’t wait till morning.