Hollie Stevens and Isis Love

Hollie tied tight and already sweating. I didn't want to keep that kind of heat to myself, so I dragged Isis into the room. Blonde skin stretched over rope, brunette eyes narrowing at the sight. Hollie arches, wrists pinned, mouth open. Isis grabs her hair, forces her head back, then lights the first jolt of the prod across bare thigh. Both women lose their breath at once—one cry high and ragged, the other low and guttural. Isis pushes the contact lower, watches Hollie jerk, ass clenching, and sinks a gloved thumb straight inside. Hollie shakes, coming and cursing, and Isis grins like she’s only getting started.