Fic: Let's Blame the Heat - (3/?) NC17
Title: Let's Blame the Heat
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: NC17/M
Summary: Santana would like to blame the heat, but it's much more than that; it's all Brittany.
Spoilers: None really, but it's a first-time fic so before they started doing the nasty or telling people about it on the phone.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and I make no money from them.
Chapter Three
Once Santana arrived home and found something to eat, she made her way to her room, caught between feeling good and feeling really, really awful. On the one hand she’d just spent another day with Brittany; enjoying her company, enjoying her looks, and enjoying her apparent compliments. But on the other hand, she’d just spent the day misleading Brittany and being a giant perv.
There was no way she felt comfortable with the way she now saw her friend. How could she be comfortable? It wasn’t who she was meant to be. It wasn’t what she was meant to be.
In all the time she’d known Brittany she’d never once thought of her in the sexual sense - well, mostly - but now her mind had settled on the notion, she couldn’t think of anything else. Maybe something had sparked it. Maybe there had been a point when things had changed and she hadn’t noticed until it was too late to stamp out the fire currently inside her.
Whatever, or whenever it had been, Santana couldn’t put her finger on it; she just knew that right now . . . she wanted to have sex with Brittany. She wanted it in any and all possible ways that two women could, even though she didn’t have the first clue what those ways could be. She didn’t know about these things. She didn’t know anything beyond the fact she just wanted to touch Brittany, and be touched by her right back. Sure, she could guess some of the basics - fingers, tongues, rubbing, sucking, exploring - but the thought of actually doing those things, and hoping to do them well, frightened the hell out of her.
She wasn’t ready to want in this way, and she certainly wasn’t ready to want another girl in this way.
Her past sexual experiences had mostly been quick, dubious, unsatisfying wrangles that left her wondering why anybody would do it unless they gained something out of it. Of course, she was smart, she always gained something; her reputation, her status. Her conquests had helped put her where she was, on top of the pile at McKinley High. She hadn’t had sex with the boys she had because she’d been so hot for it she’d just had to have them right then and there - apart from that one time with Puck that had been a total disaster. No, she’d had sex with them to secure her place in the high school rankings. She’d done it to look good. To have every boy drooling after her in the hopes she’d let them play too.
There were times when she regretted doing what she had, but she wasn’t going to linger on regret. She’d always been careful, always protected herself and chosen wisely. Santana had always been in control. Maybe that’s why wanting Brittany scared her so much - it made her feel out of control. She couldn’t rule the way she wanted Brittany and it was new and frightening.
Brittany, and the way she made Santana feel, had her all kinds of off centre. Plus, it was damn hot lately and she was sure it was messing with her internal sensors, or something.
Placing a hastily cooked plate of ravioli down on her desk, Santana threw her bag onto her bed and ran a hand over her forehead. She felt like she needed another shower already. Once she ate and situated her homework in the corner of the room, where she’d leave it for the reminder of the weekend, she’d take another shower before changing into something even less restricting then her Cherrio’s uniform. Her parents probably wouldn’t be home for hours so she’d have the place to herself.
The brief idea to call Brittany to come over and hang flitted through her mind, but she quashed it, choosing to stay sane for as long as possible. A little time apart would do her good, though she knew she’d spend most of that time thinking about Brittany and wondering what she was doing.
Nope, tonight she would enjoy her own company, and try not to melt; whether the melting would be due to the heatwave, or by her now incessant fantasies. Whatever the case, Santana had to figure some things out, like trying not to be into her best friend, and not doing anything to jeopardise what they already had.
She didn’t know where to begin with that. How could she stop herself from wanting?
Spooning ravioli into her mouth as she pushed her sneakers off and hit play on the iPod that was hooked up to some impressive speakers, Santana implored herself to stop thinking. Just stop thinking about Brittany. Full stop.
There were other things she could choose to focus on, like her studies - though that idea just made her laugh right out loud - or her music. She’d always been able to lose herself to music and had began writing her own - lyrics, and tunes - some years ago.
It had helped her through her younger teen years, when she realized rebelling against her parents was pointless. They were never there to notice, so instead of wasting further time trying to be noticed she switched her attentions to creating something that helped her express herself.
Maybe that’s why she’d joined Glee without putting up much of a fight. It’s certainly why she enjoyed it, though she’d never tell anybody quite how much.
Pulling out her lyric book, Santana turned the volume up on her iPod, letting the beat remind her just how easy it was to get lost in music. Her dinner forgotten, she moved to the rhythm without thinking as she flicked through some old notes and scribbles in her lyric book. So much of it was embarrassing now - a mix of teenage angst and daddy issues. She was over those now, mostly. The only thing making her feel remotely emo now was this longing she’d developed for Brittany, and it was getting worse everyday.
Realizing that the track she was listening to was one of Brittany’s favourites, she shuffled it forward to the next. But that also reminded her of Brittany - a song she loved to dance to; to move those hips to and transfix Santana in their sway.
Brittany definitely loved to dance, and Santana loved to watch.
Sitting down heavily in her chair at her desk she came to the sudden realization that maybe it was Glee club’s fault she was now feeling the way she was about Brittany. Brittany danced a lot at Glee club. She danced with practiced ease. With confidence and a sex appeal that was impossible to miss. Santana had been transfixed from the very first performance - unable to take her eyes off Brittany even when she was dancing right beside her.
It was different to cheerleading. The way Brittany moved was different, and every chance she’d get Santana would look over at her and feel drawn to the way she moved. She’d allow herself to gaze at the swish of her blonde hair, the curve to her hips, the movement of her navel as she twisted and turned. It was mesmerising and so, so sexy.
And they’d recently just started sneaking into clubs together - easily tricking their past suspicious bouncers who suspected their age. That’s where Brittany really let loose; her arms above head, eyes closed, letting the dance music travel through her like the rush of an ever building orgasm. Always perched on the edge of climax as each song eased into the next, keeping them moving, closer every time they went clubbing until they now danced so close they could feel nothing but each other’s heat, breath, pulsing need to keep the rhythm. But they’d never pushed the limit. Never slammed the door on the outside so all that was left was each other.
Regardless, Brittany had danced her way into Santana’s psyche anyway. That body, her eyes as they took on a smouldering guise so unlike the way Brittany normally looked without the music pounding through her, Brittany’s effortless sex appeal and seductive aura. Santana had been powerless not to fall under the spell. Her body craved the touch of that girl. Her desire refusing to be ignored.
She shut off her iPod as the music brought about images of Brittany. No, there was no loosing herself to music when it was music that had freed Brittany enough to catch Santana’s attention. She’d have to find some other way to deal with this, or . . . she’d have to avoid Brittany at all costs, and Santana knew she couldn’t allow herself to do that.
Distracting herself proved almost impossible as the evening turned to night. The heat wasn’t helping, and the day’s slightly confusing events only added fuel to Santana’s already overly active imagination. Twice Brittany had made reference to Santana’s looks. It wasn’t unusual for them to ask each other’s opinion on how they looked, especially if they were headed to a party or a club, but this had been different. Maybe the way Brittany had said it. Maybe it was just because Santana had been letting her libido rule her mind lately. Either way, Santana couldn’t help but smile because of it.
Of course, she also had the image in her mind of Brittany naked in the shower. She’d seen her body before - it was just one of those things that happened when you showered after practice together - but it almost felt as if Brittany had wanted her to see. Had wanted Santana to let her gaze linger and soak in just what she could have if they were together in that way.
But Santana had to remember, Brittany wasn’t feeling the same as she was . . . probably.
She’d certainly never said anything, but then neither had Santana. She hadn’t really even done anything that would make Santana wonder if Brittany wanted the same, apart from the fact they were definitely touching more and Brittany had taken to brushing her fingers over Santana’s skin whenever a chance presented itself. Santana couldn’t really cling to those as signs though, as Brittany didn’t work like other people. She was wired differently. She constantly did things that made others look at her like she was from another planet. There was no guessing where Brittany was concerned; unless she came right out and told Santana she wanted to try something more than just a friendship, Santana would never be able to speculate for sure.
It was pointless, and frustrating trying to work it out.
And talking about frustrating, Santana was beyond frustrated right now. The cool shower she’d had a little while ago hadn’t helped at all. Her mother coming home and flustering about how she needed to have the pool cleaned, the dining room redecorated, and how her office felt like a sauna had taken Santana’s mind off Brittany for no longer than a few minutes. Once she’d slunk away back to her own room, Santana’s thoughts settled back on her blonde friend. It was maddening.
She missed her. It had only been a few hours since she’d last seen Brittany, but she missed her smile, her voice, the sweet things she’d say that nobody else probably understood. Santana missed the softness of her fingers as they’d land on her arm, her thigh, her lower back or shoulder, or wherever Brittany chose to touch seemingly just because she could.
Laying back on her bed in a small tank top and some rather tight boi shorts, Santana sighed for the hundredth time in the past hour. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy tonight, or at all. She couldn’t possibly get under the sheets; though their cool, silk swathes offered promises of a little relief from the humidity, she knew after a while they’d begin to cling to her and make her sticky and uncomfortable. A fan blew across her, whispering over her dark skin as it swept left and right from across her room, every pass making her close her eyes and imagine it was Brittany’s breath as she blew over her heated body.
Allowing herself to indulge, just a little, Santana kept her eyes closed and fantasised about a tickle of blonde hair over the leg she currently had raised at the knee. A soft breath travelling upwards. The ghost of a fingertip trailing up her inner thigh. She felt herself shudder; her stomach tightening as she licked her lips and pictured Brittany crawling up between her legs.
Subconsciously, Santana’s legs fell open and her hand moved to the bottom of her tank top, fingers drifting under the hem to her taut tummy. The scratch of her own short fingernails almost caused her to whimper, such was her frustration. She knew she should stop thinking of Brittany as she was, and force her hands to some other task; she’d so far managed to do just that as her attraction had built, but she didn’t think she had the will to stop this time.
The last thing she wanted to do was touch herself whilst thinking of her friend, but her strength was waning. There was no holding back the torrent of desire rushing through her this time. She couldn’t fight it, even though she knew she’d feel incredibly guilty for it.
“Sorry, Brittany,” Santana whispered huskily with a shudder as her hand slipped underneath the waistband of her shorts.
She wasn’t surprised to discover that she was already wet; soaked in fact. Her fingers eased through the evidence of weeks of longing and Santana barely restrained a soft moan as her body awakened. Her scent crept up on her as she moved to her own touch and spread her sticky arousal over heated flesh. Wetting her lips and wriggling her other hand up under the top that now felt ridiculously restricting Santana cupped her breast; rolling over and around and pinching a painfully hard nipple.
Hips moving in time as Santana stroked over herself, she couldn’t help but imagine Brittany hovering above her. That glorious body so close to her own, hands possessing Santana as if she belonged to her. Feeling herself quickly reaching a much needed release, Santana thought about Brittany’s fingers; fingers that could right now be pushed into her shorts, fingertip brushing quickly over her where she needed it most.
“Fuck,” she breathed quietly as she circled faster over her hard clit, her fingers knowing this land well despite the fact she’d never done this - stopped herself from doing this - over Brittany until now.
Spreading her legs wide on her now rumpled bed, knees bent and hips rolling up against her own fingers, Santana kept her eyes squeezed shut and saw a cascade of blonde hair over her, lips inviting her to kiss them, to taste the wrangle of their tongues.
She couldn’t stop the moan that escaped when her imagination drowned her in expected sensation. Every sweep and flick of her fingertip caused her to shudder, for one person, for one girl that had inexplicably wrapped her way around Santana’s life.
“Brittany,” Santana hissed, head thrown back, repeating it until her sensitive clit could take no more and her hips jerked and body shuddered to its climax.
“Fuck,” she gasped, “I want you.”
With the last tremor she let her body relax back into the mattress, fingers now covered in her guilty pleasure. She pulled them out of her shorts and aimlessly wiped them across her thigh, her breath coming quick and shallow as she tried to regain control, the throb between her legs still sending small shockwaves through her.
Her tongue glanced over her lips and she opened her eyes to the quiet of the room, glaring at her ceiling and cursing the fact there was no Brittany between her and it. No Brittany to explore and enjoy, to crawl up inside until the only word Brittany could utter was Santana’s name. It felt unfair, but she knew life wasn’t that simple. She knew she’d never have what she wanted; not really. And now that she’d allowed herself the deceitful pleasure of coming with Brittany’s name on her lips, she knew she was completely lost to this desire.
Santana wouldn’t sleep tonight, wouldn’t stop fucking herself, filling herself with her fingers with nothing but Brittany on her mind until her pussy was aching for her to stop.
She’d deal with the guilt tomorrow. Another day. Maybe never.
TBC...
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: NC17/M
Summary: Santana would like to blame the heat, but it's much more than that; it's all Brittany.
Spoilers: None really, but it's a first-time fic so before they started doing the nasty or telling people about it on the phone.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and I make no money from them.
Chapter Three
Once Santana arrived home and found something to eat, she made her way to her room, caught between feeling good and feeling really, really awful. On the one hand she’d just spent another day with Brittany; enjoying her company, enjoying her looks, and enjoying her apparent compliments. But on the other hand, she’d just spent the day misleading Brittany and being a giant perv.
There was no way she felt comfortable with the way she now saw her friend. How could she be comfortable? It wasn’t who she was meant to be. It wasn’t what she was meant to be.
In all the time she’d known Brittany she’d never once thought of her in the sexual sense - well, mostly - but now her mind had settled on the notion, she couldn’t think of anything else. Maybe something had sparked it. Maybe there had been a point when things had changed and she hadn’t noticed until it was too late to stamp out the fire currently inside her.
Whatever, or whenever it had been, Santana couldn’t put her finger on it; she just knew that right now . . . she wanted to have sex with Brittany. She wanted it in any and all possible ways that two women could, even though she didn’t have the first clue what those ways could be. She didn’t know about these things. She didn’t know anything beyond the fact she just wanted to touch Brittany, and be touched by her right back. Sure, she could guess some of the basics - fingers, tongues, rubbing, sucking, exploring - but the thought of actually doing those things, and hoping to do them well, frightened the hell out of her.
She wasn’t ready to want in this way, and she certainly wasn’t ready to want another girl in this way.
Her past sexual experiences had mostly been quick, dubious, unsatisfying wrangles that left her wondering why anybody would do it unless they gained something out of it. Of course, she was smart, she always gained something; her reputation, her status. Her conquests had helped put her where she was, on top of the pile at McKinley High. She hadn’t had sex with the boys she had because she’d been so hot for it she’d just had to have them right then and there - apart from that one time with Puck that had been a total disaster. No, she’d had sex with them to secure her place in the high school rankings. She’d done it to look good. To have every boy drooling after her in the hopes she’d let them play too.
There were times when she regretted doing what she had, but she wasn’t going to linger on regret. She’d always been careful, always protected herself and chosen wisely. Santana had always been in control. Maybe that’s why wanting Brittany scared her so much - it made her feel out of control. She couldn’t rule the way she wanted Brittany and it was new and frightening.
Brittany, and the way she made Santana feel, had her all kinds of off centre. Plus, it was damn hot lately and she was sure it was messing with her internal sensors, or something.
Placing a hastily cooked plate of ravioli down on her desk, Santana threw her bag onto her bed and ran a hand over her forehead. She felt like she needed another shower already. Once she ate and situated her homework in the corner of the room, where she’d leave it for the reminder of the weekend, she’d take another shower before changing into something even less restricting then her Cherrio’s uniform. Her parents probably wouldn’t be home for hours so she’d have the place to herself.
The brief idea to call Brittany to come over and hang flitted through her mind, but she quashed it, choosing to stay sane for as long as possible. A little time apart would do her good, though she knew she’d spend most of that time thinking about Brittany and wondering what she was doing.
Nope, tonight she would enjoy her own company, and try not to melt; whether the melting would be due to the heatwave, or by her now incessant fantasies. Whatever the case, Santana had to figure some things out, like trying not to be into her best friend, and not doing anything to jeopardise what they already had.
She didn’t know where to begin with that. How could she stop herself from wanting?
Spooning ravioli into her mouth as she pushed her sneakers off and hit play on the iPod that was hooked up to some impressive speakers, Santana implored herself to stop thinking. Just stop thinking about Brittany. Full stop.
There were other things she could choose to focus on, like her studies - though that idea just made her laugh right out loud - or her music. She’d always been able to lose herself to music and had began writing her own - lyrics, and tunes - some years ago.
It had helped her through her younger teen years, when she realized rebelling against her parents was pointless. They were never there to notice, so instead of wasting further time trying to be noticed she switched her attentions to creating something that helped her express herself.
Maybe that’s why she’d joined Glee without putting up much of a fight. It’s certainly why she enjoyed it, though she’d never tell anybody quite how much.
Pulling out her lyric book, Santana turned the volume up on her iPod, letting the beat remind her just how easy it was to get lost in music. Her dinner forgotten, she moved to the rhythm without thinking as she flicked through some old notes and scribbles in her lyric book. So much of it was embarrassing now - a mix of teenage angst and daddy issues. She was over those now, mostly. The only thing making her feel remotely emo now was this longing she’d developed for Brittany, and it was getting worse everyday.
Realizing that the track she was listening to was one of Brittany’s favourites, she shuffled it forward to the next. But that also reminded her of Brittany - a song she loved to dance to; to move those hips to and transfix Santana in their sway.
Brittany definitely loved to dance, and Santana loved to watch.
Sitting down heavily in her chair at her desk she came to the sudden realization that maybe it was Glee club’s fault she was now feeling the way she was about Brittany. Brittany danced a lot at Glee club. She danced with practiced ease. With confidence and a sex appeal that was impossible to miss. Santana had been transfixed from the very first performance - unable to take her eyes off Brittany even when she was dancing right beside her.
It was different to cheerleading. The way Brittany moved was different, and every chance she’d get Santana would look over at her and feel drawn to the way she moved. She’d allow herself to gaze at the swish of her blonde hair, the curve to her hips, the movement of her navel as she twisted and turned. It was mesmerising and so, so sexy.
And they’d recently just started sneaking into clubs together - easily tricking their past suspicious bouncers who suspected their age. That’s where Brittany really let loose; her arms above head, eyes closed, letting the dance music travel through her like the rush of an ever building orgasm. Always perched on the edge of climax as each song eased into the next, keeping them moving, closer every time they went clubbing until they now danced so close they could feel nothing but each other’s heat, breath, pulsing need to keep the rhythm. But they’d never pushed the limit. Never slammed the door on the outside so all that was left was each other.
Regardless, Brittany had danced her way into Santana’s psyche anyway. That body, her eyes as they took on a smouldering guise so unlike the way Brittany normally looked without the music pounding through her, Brittany’s effortless sex appeal and seductive aura. Santana had been powerless not to fall under the spell. Her body craved the touch of that girl. Her desire refusing to be ignored.
She shut off her iPod as the music brought about images of Brittany. No, there was no loosing herself to music when it was music that had freed Brittany enough to catch Santana’s attention. She’d have to find some other way to deal with this, or . . . she’d have to avoid Brittany at all costs, and Santana knew she couldn’t allow herself to do that.
Distracting herself proved almost impossible as the evening turned to night. The heat wasn’t helping, and the day’s slightly confusing events only added fuel to Santana’s already overly active imagination. Twice Brittany had made reference to Santana’s looks. It wasn’t unusual for them to ask each other’s opinion on how they looked, especially if they were headed to a party or a club, but this had been different. Maybe the way Brittany had said it. Maybe it was just because Santana had been letting her libido rule her mind lately. Either way, Santana couldn’t help but smile because of it.
Of course, she also had the image in her mind of Brittany naked in the shower. She’d seen her body before - it was just one of those things that happened when you showered after practice together - but it almost felt as if Brittany had wanted her to see. Had wanted Santana to let her gaze linger and soak in just what she could have if they were together in that way.
But Santana had to remember, Brittany wasn’t feeling the same as she was . . . probably.
She’d certainly never said anything, but then neither had Santana. She hadn’t really even done anything that would make Santana wonder if Brittany wanted the same, apart from the fact they were definitely touching more and Brittany had taken to brushing her fingers over Santana’s skin whenever a chance presented itself. Santana couldn’t really cling to those as signs though, as Brittany didn’t work like other people. She was wired differently. She constantly did things that made others look at her like she was from another planet. There was no guessing where Brittany was concerned; unless she came right out and told Santana she wanted to try something more than just a friendship, Santana would never be able to speculate for sure.
It was pointless, and frustrating trying to work it out.
And talking about frustrating, Santana was beyond frustrated right now. The cool shower she’d had a little while ago hadn’t helped at all. Her mother coming home and flustering about how she needed to have the pool cleaned, the dining room redecorated, and how her office felt like a sauna had taken Santana’s mind off Brittany for no longer than a few minutes. Once she’d slunk away back to her own room, Santana’s thoughts settled back on her blonde friend. It was maddening.
She missed her. It had only been a few hours since she’d last seen Brittany, but she missed her smile, her voice, the sweet things she’d say that nobody else probably understood. Santana missed the softness of her fingers as they’d land on her arm, her thigh, her lower back or shoulder, or wherever Brittany chose to touch seemingly just because she could.
Laying back on her bed in a small tank top and some rather tight boi shorts, Santana sighed for the hundredth time in the past hour. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy tonight, or at all. She couldn’t possibly get under the sheets; though their cool, silk swathes offered promises of a little relief from the humidity, she knew after a while they’d begin to cling to her and make her sticky and uncomfortable. A fan blew across her, whispering over her dark skin as it swept left and right from across her room, every pass making her close her eyes and imagine it was Brittany’s breath as she blew over her heated body.
Allowing herself to indulge, just a little, Santana kept her eyes closed and fantasised about a tickle of blonde hair over the leg she currently had raised at the knee. A soft breath travelling upwards. The ghost of a fingertip trailing up her inner thigh. She felt herself shudder; her stomach tightening as she licked her lips and pictured Brittany crawling up between her legs.
Subconsciously, Santana’s legs fell open and her hand moved to the bottom of her tank top, fingers drifting under the hem to her taut tummy. The scratch of her own short fingernails almost caused her to whimper, such was her frustration. She knew she should stop thinking of Brittany as she was, and force her hands to some other task; she’d so far managed to do just that as her attraction had built, but she didn’t think she had the will to stop this time.
The last thing she wanted to do was touch herself whilst thinking of her friend, but her strength was waning. There was no holding back the torrent of desire rushing through her this time. She couldn’t fight it, even though she knew she’d feel incredibly guilty for it.
“Sorry, Brittany,” Santana whispered huskily with a shudder as her hand slipped underneath the waistband of her shorts.
She wasn’t surprised to discover that she was already wet; soaked in fact. Her fingers eased through the evidence of weeks of longing and Santana barely restrained a soft moan as her body awakened. Her scent crept up on her as she moved to her own touch and spread her sticky arousal over heated flesh. Wetting her lips and wriggling her other hand up under the top that now felt ridiculously restricting Santana cupped her breast; rolling over and around and pinching a painfully hard nipple.
Hips moving in time as Santana stroked over herself, she couldn’t help but imagine Brittany hovering above her. That glorious body so close to her own, hands possessing Santana as if she belonged to her. Feeling herself quickly reaching a much needed release, Santana thought about Brittany’s fingers; fingers that could right now be pushed into her shorts, fingertip brushing quickly over her where she needed it most.
“Fuck,” she breathed quietly as she circled faster over her hard clit, her fingers knowing this land well despite the fact she’d never done this - stopped herself from doing this - over Brittany until now.
Spreading her legs wide on her now rumpled bed, knees bent and hips rolling up against her own fingers, Santana kept her eyes squeezed shut and saw a cascade of blonde hair over her, lips inviting her to kiss them, to taste the wrangle of their tongues.
She couldn’t stop the moan that escaped when her imagination drowned her in expected sensation. Every sweep and flick of her fingertip caused her to shudder, for one person, for one girl that had inexplicably wrapped her way around Santana’s life.
“Brittany,” Santana hissed, head thrown back, repeating it until her sensitive clit could take no more and her hips jerked and body shuddered to its climax.
“Fuck,” she gasped, “I want you.”
With the last tremor she let her body relax back into the mattress, fingers now covered in her guilty pleasure. She pulled them out of her shorts and aimlessly wiped them across her thigh, her breath coming quick and shallow as she tried to regain control, the throb between her legs still sending small shockwaves through her.
Her tongue glanced over her lips and she opened her eyes to the quiet of the room, glaring at her ceiling and cursing the fact there was no Brittany between her and it. No Brittany to explore and enjoy, to crawl up inside until the only word Brittany could utter was Santana’s name. It felt unfair, but she knew life wasn’t that simple. She knew she’d never have what she wanted; not really. And now that she’d allowed herself the deceitful pleasure of coming with Brittany’s name on her lips, she knew she was completely lost to this desire.
Santana wouldn’t sleep tonight, wouldn’t stop fucking herself, filling herself with her fingers with nothing but Brittany on her mind until her pussy was aching for her to stop.
She’d deal with the guilt tomorrow. Another day. Maybe never.
TBC...