Sleep Over Revenge

Natalia storms in like she owns the night. Mandy Marx is right there, on the edge, and Natalia shuts it down cold. Ziva writhes under her grip, wrists cinched tight, black hair a dark spill across the sheets. Blonde strands stick to sweat-slick skin as the denial sinks in, sharp and slow. Natalia leans close, voice low, every command landing heavy. Ziva’s pleas turn to gasps, the denial stretching out until the air feels thick with it. Bondage bites, hips buck, and still the pleasure stays just out of reach. Natalia’s smirk says she’s nowhere near done.