The Love of Ladies Behind Locked Doors.

Layla’s cheeks burned hotter than the fluorescents overhead, but she didn’t adjust the hem, Gwen’s gaze was a dare. "At least I *earn* attention," she shot back, rolling her shoulders to feel the stretch of her tank top clinging to sweat-slick skin. The fabric puckered where Gwen’s eyes lingered too long.  

"Earn it?" Gwen laughed, sharp as shattered glass. "Please. You couldn’t even earn a spot on the heroes’ track." She lunged for a loose ball, her own shorts riding high enough to flash the dimpled curve of her thigh. The rubber smacked Layla’s ribs before she could blink.  

The impact bloomed like a bruise, but Layla’s retort was faster. "Funny, coming from someone who *built* her way in." She kicked the ball back hard, not at Gwen’s smug face, but the metal bleachers behind her. The ricochet grazed Gwen’s elbow, and the metallic ping drowned out her gasp.  

Gwen’s fingers curled into fists, her breath hitching like a glitching machine. "You’re *dead*," she hissed, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. Layla’s pulse throbbed in her throat, alive and electric.

"Already? And here I thought you liked taking your time," Layla shot back, rolling her wrist until ivy slithered from the gym’s cracked tiles, tangling around Gwen’s ankle. The gasp that ripped from Gwen’s mouth was half rage, half something else entirely, something that made the boys in the bleachers lean forward, palms slick against the metal.

"Cheating bitch!" Gwen jerked free, but the movement sent her off-balance, her skirt catching on the ivy’s thorns. A seam ripped. The sound was obscenely loud. Whistles erupted from the sidelines, half-drowned by Gwen’s snarl as she wrenched the fabric back into place. 

Layla’s smirk faltered when Gwen lunged again, no ball this time, just bare hands and bitten-red nails. The impact sent them both crashing into the mats, Gwen’s knee grinding between Layla’s thighs, her breath hot against Layla’s collarbone. "You always fight *this* dirty?" Gwen whispered, her voice syrup-thick with something that wasn’t quite malice.

"Only when you start it," Layla gasped, arching her hips to buck Gwen off, but the movement only pressed them closer. The slick heat between Layla’s legs was impossible to ignore, Gwen’s thigh hitching higher, riding up the split seam of her own skirt. The crowd’s cheers melted into a collective groan of anticipation.

"I *always* start it," Gwen purred, her thumb dragging slow over Layla’s lower lip. "But you..." Her words dissolved into a sharp inhale as Layla’s fingers tangled in her hair, yanking just hard enough to sting. 

The ivy responded to Layla’s racing pulse, twisting around Gwen’s wrist, pinning it to the mat beside her head. Gwen’s laugh was ragged, her free hand sliding down to grip Layla’s hip, nails biting through the thin fabric. "Cute," she breathed. "But you forgot one thing." Her knee pressed deeper, and Layla’s gasp echoed off the gym walls.

The door slammed open with a crack like a gunshot. "Enough!" Principal Powers’ heels clicked sharply against the hardwood, cutting through the heavy silence that followed. Her gaze flickered between them, Gwen’s skirt torn at the seam, Layla’s chest heaving, their legs tangled in a way that made the boys slump in their seats. "Detention. Both of you. Now."

Gwen rolled off Layla with a scoff, but not before her fingers lingered, just a heartbeat too long, against Layla’s thigh. "This isn’t over," she murmured, low enough that only Layla could hear. The promise in her voice sent a shiver down Layla’s spine, hot and jagged.

The crowd groaned as Powers herded them apart, Gwen tossing her hair over one shoulder like a challenge. Layla wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, tasting salt and something sharper, victory or defeat, she couldn’t tell yet.

"Don’t bother trying to fix that," Gwen muttered in the locker room, nodding at Layla’s torn skirt. "Looks better ruined." She peeled off her sweat-stained tank top with a slow roll of her shoulders, the fabric catching on the jut of her collarbones. Layla watched the muscles in Gwen’s back flex as she unhooked her bra, the dim light catching on the sweat still clinging to the dip of her spine.  

Powers cleared her throat from the doorway. "Five minutes," she said, her gaze lingering a beat too long on Gwen’s bare shoulders before turning sharply away. Gwen smirked, stretching her arms overhead, the curve of her breasts swaying with the movement. "Someone’s eager," she murmured, just loud enough for Layla to hear.  

The walk to Powers’ office was thick with silence, Gwen’s heels clicking a half-step ahead. Layla caught the scent of her shampoo, something expensive, floral with an undercurrent of smoke. Powers’ office door groaned open, revealing leather chairs and a desk polished to a high shine. Gwen sat without waiting, crossing her legs slowly, the slit in her skirt falling open to reveal a crescent of thigh.  

"Now," Powers said, settling behind her desk, her fingers steepled. "Care to explain what *that* was?"  

Gwen leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. "Just a little... extracurricular activity." Her toe brushed Layla’s ankle under the desk, light as a spark. Layla’s breath hitched.

Layla jerked her leg away. "She started it," she snapped, voice sharper than she intended. Gwen’s smirk widened.  

"Did I?" Gwen’s fingers drummed the armrest, slow and deliberate. "Or did you just *like* how it felt?" Layla’s cheeks burned hotter than the Pacifier’s blast radius.

Powers slammed her palm on the desk. "Enough!" The glass of water trembled. "One more word and you’re both expelled." Gwen’s smirk didn’t waver, but her knuckles whitened around the chair’s edge. Powers leaned forward, the scent of her Chanel No. 5 mixing with the ozone-tang of Gwen’s barely-contained fury. "Unless," she continued, thumb tracing the rim of her coffee cup, "you’d prefer detention... with me. Indefinitely."

Gwen’s breath hitched, Layla saw it in the way her collarbones lifted, how the vein in her throat pulsed. "And what exactly," Gwen purred, crossing her legs so to show them off more, "would that entail?"

Powers’ smile was a blade. "Whatever I say." The silence stretched, thick with the creak of leather and the drip of sweat down Layla’s spine. Gwen’s tongue darted out, just once, to wet her lips. "And the first thing you two well do is kiss. Like you *meant* it in that gym."

Layla’s laugh cracked like dry earth. "You can't be..."  

"Out." Powers didn’t raise her voice. The word was a guillotine. "You want to act like animals, I’ll treat you like animals." Her nails tapped the desk, each click syncopated with Gwen’s slowing breath. "Unless you'd rather explain to your parents why you're scrubbing toilets at Normie High?"  

Gwen’s knee knocked Layla’s under the desk, deliberate. "Scared, Williams?" Her voice was syrup poured over shards. "Or just bad at following orders?"  

Layla’s throat tightened. Gwen’s hand was already gripping her wrist, pulling her forward, the heat of her palm branding Layla’s skin. The first brush of lips was electric, too soft, too quick, until Gwen’s teeth caught Layla’s lower lip, biting down just shy of pain. The moan that escaped Layla was swallowed by Gwen’s mouth, her fingers twisting in Gwen’s hair to drag her closer.  

Powers’ exhale was audible. "Good." The word curled like smoke. Gwen’s thumb traced the hinge of Layla’s jaw, possessive, as she deepened the kiss, their tongues tangling in a way that sent sparks down Layla’s spine. When they finally broke apart, Gwen’s lipstick was smeared across Layla’s mouth like a fresh wound.  

Layla wiped her chin, fingers trembling. The taste of Gwen, cherry gloss and something darker, lingered. 

Powers leaned back, satisfied. "Now," she murmured, "was that so hard?"  

Gwen’s smirk was bloody. "For her? Probably." Her knee slid higher up Layla’s thigh under the desk. "But don’t worry, Principal. I’ll *help* her get it right." The promise in her voice pooled hot between Layla’s legs.

Powers tapped one polished nail against the desk’s edge, her gaze flickering to the way Gwen’s fingers traced the hem of Layla’s shirt. "Next," she said, slow as molasses, "shirts off. *Slowly*. And only each other’s." 

Layla’s breath stuttered. "That’s... you can’t just..." 

Gwen’s laugh was silk unraveling. "Oh, she *can*." Her fingers hooked in Layla’s collar, dragging her forward until their foreheads bumped. "But I’ll go first," she murmured, thumbs slipping under the fabric to graze Layla’s ribs. The shirt peeled away like shedding skin, leaving Layla exposed in just her bra, plain green cotton, already damp under the cups. Gwen’s exhale was audible. 

"Your turn," Powers murmured. Layla’s fingers trembled on Gwen’s buttons, her knuckles brushing the swell of Gwen’s breasts with every fumbled attempt. The silk slid apart to reveal lace the color of a fresh bruise, sheer enough to outline Gwen’s nipples, already peaked. The scent of her, vanilla and something chemical, like overheated wires, flooded Layla’s mouth. 

"Now," Powers said, leaning back in her chair, "massage them. Through the fabric. Nice and slow." Gwen’s smirk deepened as her palms cupped Layla’s breasts, thumbs circling the stiff peaks through the cotton. Layla’s gasp was half swallowed when Gwen pinched, just hard enough to burn. 

Layla’s hands hovered over Gwen’s chest, her pulse hammering against her ribs. Gwen arched into the tentative brush of fingers, sighing when Layla finally pressed in, the lace rough under her palms. Gwen’s breath hitched, genuine, startled, when Layla’s thumbs found her nipples, rolling them in slow, uneven circles. The sound she made was small and wounded, nothing like the taunting purr from earlier. 

Powers’ lips curled. "Good girls." The praise dripped down Layla’s spine like syrup. Gwen’s hips jerked forward, her thigh grinding against Layla’s with every flick of her thumbs. The chairs creaked under their weight, and somewhere above them, Powers’ pen tapped out an impatient rhythm. "Enough teasing," Powers said, her voice low enough to curl around the room like smoke. "Lower clothing. *Slowly*." 

Gwen’s smirk was sharp as she stood, dragging Layla up by the wrist. Her nails dug in just shy of breaking skin. "Relax," Gwen murmured, fingers skating down Layla’s waistband. The skirt pooled at Layla’s feet with agonizing slowness, Gwen’s breath hot against the exposed dip of her hipbone. Jeans followed, the denim dragging over Layla’s thighs like a second skin being peeled away. Layla’s knees nearly buckled when Gwen’s fingers hooked in the elastic of her panties, *not yet* only to release with a mocking chuckle.  

Powers exhaled, slow. "Your turn." Layla’s throat clicked as she swallowed, her fingers clumsy on Gwen’s zipper. The skirt slid down Gwen’s legs with a whisper of fabric against skin, revealing thighs slick with sweat, the lace of her panties already damp at the edges. Gwen’s breath hitched, barely there, but Layla caught it.  

The air thickened when Gwen stepped closer, her knee nudging Layla’s apart. Powers watched, rapt, as Gwen’s thumb traced the seam of Layla’s underwear, smirking at the shudder it drew. "See?" she whispered, lips brushing Layla’s earlobe. "Not so scary when *I’m* the one trembling." Layla’s nails bit into Gwen’s hips, grounding herself in the sharp gasp it tore free.

"What..." Layla’s voice cracked, hips jerking when Gwen’s fingers finally slipped beneath cotton. "What does this have to do with *fighting*?" 

Powers stood abruptly, her chair scraping loud enough to make Gwen freeze. "Oh, kitten," she murmured, stepping around the desk to grip both their chins. "If you can *ruin* each other like this..." Her thumbs pressed into their parted lips. "*Why* would you ever fight?"

Gwen’s answering laugh was breathless, cut short when Powers hooked her fingers into both their waistbands. The fabric peeled away slow, Layla’s cotton catching briefly on her thighs, Gwen’s lace snapping taut before yielding, until they pooled at their feet. Powers exhaled, warm against Gwen’s shoulder. "Now," she ordered, voice rough as gravel, "Gwen. Twerk your ass against her. *Hard*."

Layla’s hands flew to Gwen’s hips in protest, but Gwen was already stepping back, pressing flush against her, the slick heat of Gwen’s bare ass grinding into Layla’s pelvis. Gwen gasped, genuine, startled, when Layla’s clit caught the cleft of her cheeks, the friction sudden and electric. Gwen’s fingers dug into Layla’s thighs, her rhythm stuttering. "Fuck," Gwen hissed, arching her spine to press deeper, the wet slide of skin on skin obscenely loud.  

Powers’ smirk was molten. "See?" She palmed Gwen’s hips, guiding her movements harder, faster. "No more fighting when you’re *this* close." Layla’s moan tangled with Gwen’s as Gwen’s hips snapped back, the impact jolting through Layla’s clit like a live wire, her thighs trembling against Gwen’s relentless rhythm.  

Gwen’s voice shattered against Layla’s neck. "*Fuck*..." Her hips jerked erratically, her slick smearing against her own thighs as she ground down one last time, her breath coming in ragged bursts. Layla’s fingers twisted in Gwen’s hair, pulling her head back to expose the flutter of her pulse, her own hips bucking against Gwen’s ass in desperate, unspoken demand.

Powers’ hands slid between their bodies, her nails catching the clasp of Gwen’s bra. "Watch," she murmured against Layla’s ear, her fingers unhooking the clasp with torturous precision. The fabric slipped free, Gwen’s breasts bouncing free with a soft sway, her nipples stiff and flushed against the sudden rush of air. Gwen gasped, her back arching involuntarily, the sensation of exposure sharp enough to make her toes curl against the hardwood.

Layla barely had time to register the shift before Powers’ fingers were at her own back, the cotton straps loosening with a whisper of fabric. Her bra fell away, the cooler air pebbling her skin, her breasts heavier than she remembered, the weight of them pulling a moan from deep in her chest. Gwen’s eyes darkened, her tongue darting out to trace her own lip as she watched Layla’s nipples tighten under her gaze.

"Switch," Powers commanded, nudging Gwen’s shoulder until she stumbled backward onto the desk, her thighs parting instinctively. Layla’s pulse hammered when Powers guided her between Gwen’s legs, her palms slick against Layla’s hips. "Bend over," Powers murmured, her breath hot against Layla’s nape, "and show her what you *really* fight like."

Layla’s knees shake as she leaned forward, Gwen’s gasp sharp when Layla’s ass pressed flush against her. The first roll of Layla’s hips drew a strangled noise from Gwen, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the desk’s edge. "Harder," Gwen panted, her thighs clamping around Layla’s hips, her nails biting into the desk as she ground up to meet her.

The rhythm was clumsy at first, Layla’s hips jerking, Gwen’s breath hitching, until Powers’ hand settled low on Layla’s spine, guiding her into a slow, filthy grind. Gwen’s moan fractured into a whimper when Layla’s ass dragged against her clit, the friction wet and deliberate, the sound of skin slapping skin drowning out everything but their ragged breaths.

Gwen’s fingers clawed at the desk, her voice cracking: "Fuck… *harder*, you... ah!... you plant-loving..." Layla cut her off with a sharp snap of her hips, Gwen’s thighs clamping around her hips like a vise.

Powers grabbed Layla’s shoulders, halting her mid-thrust. "Stop." The command dripped with authority. Gwen whimpered at the sudden stillness, her clit throbbing against empty air. "Suck her tits," Powers ordered, gripping Layla’s hair to tilt her face up. "Make her *beg* for it."

Gwen’s smirk was molten as she seized Layla’s wrists, spinning her around until Layla’s back hit the desk. "Gladly," she purred, diving down to capture Layla’s left nipple between her teeth. The bite was sharp, precise, Layla arched off the desk with a cry, her breast jutting into Gwen’s mouth. Gwen’s tongue swirled slow circles around the stiff peak before sucking hard enough to bruise, her free hand kneading Layla’s other breast, thumb flicking the nipple in erratic, teasing strokes.

Powers watched, transfixed, as Gwen switched sides, her lips sealing around Layla’s right nipple with a wet pop. Layla’s fingers tangled in Gwen’s hair, torn between pushing her away and dragging her deeper. "God, you...*fuck*...you taste…" Gwen’s laugh vibrated against her skin, her tongue laving the swollen bud before biting down just shy of pain. Layla’s thighs trembled, her hips jerking uselessly against the desk’s edge, every drag of Gwen’s mouth sending jolts straight to her clit.

Gwen pulled back with a gasp, her lips slick and swollen, Layla’s nipple glistening in the harsh office light. She arched her spine until her own D-cups jutted forward, the sweat-damp peaks brushing Layla’s chin. "*Come* and get them," Gwen taunted, her voice ragged with want. 

Layla didn’t hesitate, her teeth sank into Gwen’s left breast, the salt of sweat and something darker flooding her tongue. Gwen’s scream was half agony, half triumph, her fingers yanking Layla’s hair to keep her mouth locked on.

Powers’ nails dug into Layla’s shoulders as Gwen bucked against her, the wet heat between Gwen’s thighs smearing against Layla’s stomach. "Again," Powers commanded, her breath hot against Layla’s ear. "Harder." Layla’s teeth scraped Gwen’s nipple, her tongue working the stiff peak in rough, desperate strokes. Gwen’s thighs clamped around Layla’s ribs, her hips grinding in frantic circles, the scent of her arousal thick enough to taste.

Gwen yanked Layla’s hair back, her lips curling into a snarl. "You're mine," she panted, shoving Layla backward until her spine hit the wall. 

Powers chuckled low in her throat, stepping aside to lean against the desk, her skirt hiking up as she crossed her legs. "Fuck her," Powers murmured, the order dripping like honey. "Make her *feel* it." 

Gwen hooked Layla’s right leg around her waist, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of Layla’s thighs as she pulled her flush against her. The first thrust was brutal, Gwen’s pelvis slamming into Layla’s with enough force to make the wall shudder.

Gwen’s smirk was vicious as she palmed Layla’s breasts, her thumbs circling the tender nipples with deliberate cruelty. "Still think you’re *better* than me?" she hissed, her hips snapping forward again, the slick slap of skin against skin echoing in the too-small office. Layla’s moan was raw, her fingers scrabbling at Gwen’s shoulders for balance as Gwen’s thrusts grew erratic, her rhythm faltering as pleasure coiled tight in her gut. Powers’ breath hitched, her fingers twitching against her own thigh as she watched, rapt.

Layla’s nails raked down Gwen’s back, her voice cracking on a gasp. "*Fuck*... you’re..." Gwen cut her off with a sharp bite to her collarbone, her hips stuttering as the friction between them grew unbearable. 

Powers’ heel tapped an impatient rhythm against the floor. "Don’t stop," she ordered, her voice rough with want. Gwen groaned, her forehead dropping to Layla’s shoulder as she ground against her faster, their bodies pressed so close there was no space left for air, only heat and the desperate, shared pulse of their racing hearts.

"You feel that?" Gwen gasped, her fingers digging into Layla’s hips as their slick folds slid together, the friction sending sparks up Layla’s spine. "That’s me *ruining* you." Layla choked on a moan, her nails biting into Gwen’s shoulders as she arched into the contact, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.

"Fuck...*Gwen*..." Layla’s voice shattered as Gwen’s clit dragged against hers in a slow, deliberate circle, the pressure building like a storm between her thighs. Gwen’s breath hitched, her hips stuttering as she gasped, "You’re gonna... fuck, you’re gonna make me..."

Then the world tipped. Gwen’s thighs trembled violently as she came, her rhythm breaking into jagged thrusts, her moan muffled against Layla’s skin. The sensation of Gwen pulsing against her, hot, wet, *uncontrolled* was enough to drag Layla over the edge with her, her orgasm crashing through her like a wildfire, leaving her shaking and breathless against the wall.  

Powers exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around the edge of the desk as she watched them, her own thighs pressing together beneath her skirt. Gwen pulled back just enough to meet Layla’s dazed gaze, her smirk lazy and satisfied. "Told you," she murmured, her thumb brushing Layla’s lower lip, sticky with sweat. "I *always* finish what I start."

"Enough," Powers said, voice low and rough. She pushed off the desk, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she circled them. Gwen stiffened, but Powers’ hand curled around the back of her neck before she could protest, guiding her forward until her cheek pressed against the polished surface. "Your turn," Powers murmured, her free hand sliding down Gwen’s spine to grip her hips. "Both of you... over the desk. *Now.*"

Layla’s breath hitched as Powers nudged her forward, the cool wood biting into her overheated skin. Gwen’s fingers tangled with hers, squeezing tight as Powers stepped back, the rustle of fabric loud in the heavy silence. The sound of a zipper, the whisper of silk sliding down toned thighs, Layla didn’t dare look, but Gwen’s sharp inhale told her enough. 

The first press of the strap against Layla’s entrance made her jerk, her nails digging into Gwen’s palm. "Relax," Powers ordered, her breath hot against Layla’s nape. She didn’t wait. The thrust was brutal, bottoming out in one smooth stroke, the stretch burning in the best way. Layla’s moan was muffled against Gwen’s shoulder, her hips arching instinctively to take it deeper, the ache blooming into something bright and electric. 

Gwen’s laugh was breathless, her fingers tightening around Layla’s. "Feel good?" she taunted, her voice cracking as Powers dragged the toy out slowly, savoring the way Layla clenched around it. "Wait until she *ruins* you."

Powers’ palm cracked against Layla’s ass, the sting blooming hot and sudden. "You like that, Williams?" she murmured, rocking her hips forward to grind the strap’s base against her own clit, the pressure deliciously rough. Layla whimpered, her thighs trembling as Powers thrust back in, deeper this time, the angle hitting something that made stars burst behind her eyelids. 

"Fuck...*yes*," Gwen hissed, her free hand sliding down to rub slow circles over her own clit, her hips jerking in time with Powers’ strokes. "Harder," she demanded, her nails biting into Layla’s wrist. "Make her *scream*." 

Powers obliged, her grip bruising as she fucked Layla with relentless precision, the slap of skin and the wet glide of the toy filling the room. Every thrust sent the harness grinding against her own swollen flesh, the dual sensation of control and pleasure unraveling her. Layla’s moans dissolved into ragged gasps, her body arching off the desk, pleasure coiling tight and desperate in her belly.

"You’re gonna come on it," Gwen growled, her fingers abandoning her own clit to twist in Layla’s hair, yanking her head back. "Come on, ruin her, Principal," she taunted, hips jerking against the desk’s edge, her breath hot against Layla’s ear. "Make her *beg* for it."  

Powers’ rhythm faltered for just a second, long enough for Layla to whimper at the loss, before she snapped her hips forward with a force that rattled the desk. The toy angled just right, hitting that spot inside Layla that made her vision blur, her thighs trembling violently. "There," Powers hissed, her voice raw, her own climax cresting as she fucked Layla through it, the base of the strap grinding hard against her clit with every brutal thrust.  

"*Fuck*...*Gwen*..." Layla’s voice shattered as she came, her body seizing around the toy, her nails scraping the desk as pleasure tore through her like lightning. Gwen’s laughter was breathless, triumphant, her lips crashing against Layla’s in a kiss that tasted like salt and victory. Powers groaned above them, her own orgasm rippling through her as she pressed flush against Layla’s back, her hips stuttering as she rode out the last waves against the harness.  

"Still think you’re better than me?" Gwen panted against Layla’s mouth, her thumb smearing the tears from Layla’s cheeks. Layla could only gasp, her body limp and spent, her pulse still echoing between her thighs. Powers’ hands lingered on her hips, possessive and warm, the silence between them thick with something unspoken. Then Gwen’s smirk returned, slow and wicked. "Told you," she murmured. "I *always* finish what I start."

Powers pulled out of Layla with a wet sound that made Gwen’s breath hitch, the silicone glistening under the office lights. The toy swung lazily as Powers circled Gwen, her fingers tracing the curve of Gwen’s spine like a predator savoring its prey. "Such a pretty ass," Powers murmured, delivering a sharp smack that sent Gwen’s hips jerking forward, the jiggle of her flesh lingering just a beat too long. Gwen hissed, but her thighs parted instinctively, her breath ragged with anticipation. "Now *this*," Powers mused, her grip tightening on Gwen’s waist, "is what you’ve been begging for, isn’t it?"  

The first thrust was unforgiving, the toy slamming deep into Gwen’s tight pussy with a force that knocked her palms flat against the desk. Gwen’s cry cracked halfway through, her back arching as she tried to take it, her nails scrabbling against the polished wood. "Fuck...*fuck*...*harder*," Gwen snarled, her voice raw, her hips rocking back to meet each brutal stroke. Powers obliged, her rhythm relentless, the wet slap of skin filling the room as Gwen’s thighs trembled.  

Layla watched, transfixed, as Gwen unraveled, her moans dissolving into ragged gasps, her body clenching around the toy with every thrust. Gwen’s fingers found Layla’s wrist, her grip bruising as she dragged Layla closer until their foreheads touched. "See?" Gwen whispered, her breath hot against Layla’s lips, her voice shaking with every snap of Powers’ hips. "This...*ah*... this is how you *ruin* someone." Layla’s pulse hammered in her throat, her own body thrumming with memories of the same relentless rhythm, the same delicious ruin.  

Powers’ free hand tangled in Gwen’s hair, yanking her head back as she fucked her deeper, the angle shifting just enough to make Gwen’s whole body jerk. "Come," Powers ordered, her voice rough, her own thighs trembling as she chased her own pleasure against the harness.

Gwen’s chest arched up off the desk, her fingers clawing at the polished wood for purchase as she gasped, "Fuck...*fuck*...I’m gonna..." Her words shattered into a sharp cry, her body clamping down around the toy like a vice, her breasts bouncing with each ragged breath.

Layla’s nails bit into Gwen’s forearm as she watched, transfixed, the way Gwen’s nipples tightened impossibly further, the flush spreading down her throat as she came undone. Gwen’s head tipped back, her lips parted in a silent scream as Powers fucked her through it, relentless, her rhythm never faltering.

Powers groaned low in her throat, her grip tightening on Gwen’s hips as she ground the toy deeper, her own orgasm cresting as Gwen clenched around her again, her body shuddering through a second climax that left her limp and gasping against the desk.

"*Fuck*," Gwen gasped, her forehead pressing into Layla’s shoulder, her breath hot and uneven. "You...*ah*... you planned this, didn’t you?" Her fingers dug into Layla’s ribs, her nails leaving crescent moons in their wake.

Powers pulled out with a wet sound that made Gwen’s thighs twitch, the toy slick and gleaming between them. She grabbed Layla by the wrist, flipping her onto her back with a rough tug that sent her sprawling across the polished wood. Gwen’s smirk was lazy but sharp as Powers hauled her up, straddling Layla’s hips, her thighs bracketing Layla’s waist like a vice.

"Kiss her," Powers ordered, her voice rough, her fingers tangling in Gwen’s hair to guide her mouth down to Layla’s. Gwen didn’t hesitate, her lips crashing against Layla’s in a bruising kiss, their breasts pressing together, sweat-slick and heaving. 

Layla arched beneath her, gasping as Gwen’s thighs pressed hers apart, the wet heat between them making her shudder. Powers wasted no time, lining the toy up with Gwen’s tight asshole and slamming it home in one brutal thrust, the force driving Gwen’s pussy down against Layla’s in a slick, shuddering slap. 

Gwen’s scream was muffled against Layla’s mouth, her back arching as she took it, her nails raking down Layla’s chest. "*Fuck*...*fuck*..." Her hips jerked, grinding against Layla in desperate, uneven circles, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "You...*ah*... you feel *everything*..." 

Layla’s moan was raw, her fingers digging into Gwen’s hips as the friction between them sent sparks up her spine, Gwen’s clit dragging against hers with every ragged thrust of the toy. 

Powers’ rhythm was relentless, her grip bruising as she fucked Gwen into Layla, the wet slap of skin and the choked gasps filling the room. Gwen’s thighs trembled, her body caught between the stretch of the toy and the slick grind against Layla’s pussy, pleasure coiling tight and unbearable in her gut.

“Harder...*fuck*...” Gwen gasped against Layla’s lips, her voice cracking as Powers obeyed, slamming the toy deep, the angle shifting just enough to make Layla’s clit drag against Gwen’s in a slick, shuddering circle. “You feel that? That’s...*ah*...me *ruining* you,” Gwen hissed, her fingers squeezing Layla’s so tight it hurt.

Layla’s response was swallowed by Gwen’s kiss, her moan muffled as Gwen’s hips jerked against hers, their bodies pressed so close there was no space left for air, only the shared pulse of their racing hearts and the desperate, wet friction between them. Then Gwen’s breath hitched, her thighs shaking against Layla’s thighs as she came with a shuddering cry, her pussy clenching against Layla’s in hot, pulsing waves. Layla cumming just as hard with her. 

Powers didn’t slow, fucking Gwen through it with three more brutal strokes before her own climax tore through her, her groan raw as she ground the base of the toy against Gwen’s ass, her cum streaking the silicone and dripping down the curve of Gwen’s trembling cheeks. Gwen’s laugh was breathless, her forehead dropping to Layla’s shoulder as she whispered, “Fuck that was good."