Chapter 20: Claiming the Gift
The taste of Yelena, rich and musky, still coated Wanda’s tongue as she pulled back, breathing heavily. She watched the woman beneath her twitch, utterly spent. A possessive thrill shot through her. This was hers. Natasha’s gift to her.
“Turn over,” Wanda commanded, her voice a low rasp.
Yelena only moaned, limp. With a strength that was more than physical, Wanda took her by the hip and flipped her onto her stomach. The move was effortless, a display of control that made Natasha, from the couch, draw in a sharp, needy breath.
Yelena’s back was a pale landscape in the candlelight, marked by old ghosts and new sweat. Wanda ran a hand down the knobs of her spine, then spread her cheeks wide with both hands, exposing the tight, pink furl of her asshole.
“Jesus,” Yelena gasped, burying her face into the velvet.
“Watch, доченька,” Natasha murmured from the shadows, her voice thick. “Watch her take my gift.”
Wanda didn’t hesitate. She leaned down, her breath hot against Yelena’s most intimate skin, and then her tongue, flat and firm, licked a broad stripe from her perineum up to the base of her spine. Yelena jolted.
Then Wanda zeroed in. She spread Yelena wider, kissed the clenched ring of muscle, and then pressed the pointed tip of her tongue against it.
“Oh, fuck, Wanda, you can’t—” Yelena’s protest was half-hearted, muffled by the bed.
Wanda pushed. Slowly, insistently, her tongue breached the tight resistance, spearing into the hot, secret channel. Yelena cried out, a sound of shock and dizzying pleasure. Her body, so exhausted seconds before, arched up, pushing back against Wanda’s face.
Wanda ate her ass with a single-minded fervor. Her tongue probed deep, then shallow, fucking her with it, a wet, obscene rhythm. One hand stayed anchored on Yelena’s hip, the other snaked beneath her, fingers finding her soaked, neglected cunt. Two fingers slid in effortlessly, curling upward.
“Yes! Right there, fuck, right there!” Yelena babbled, her words dissolving into grunts and moans as Wanda scissored her tongue and pressed deep with her fingers, hitting that perfect, swollen spot inside.
From the couch, the slick, frantic sound of Natasha touching herself grew louder, matching pace. “Look at her, baby,” Natasha panted, her eyes glued to the mirror. “Look at my girl wrecking you. You’re so pretty for her.”
The dual sensations, the filthy invasion of Wanda’s tongue and the relentless press of her fingers, built a new fire in Yelena’s gut. Her thighs shook. Another orgasm was climbing, twisted and different, born from deep violation and utter acceptance.
Wanda felt her tightening, heard the pitch of her cries shift. She redoubled her efforts, her nose buried against Yelena’s skin, breathing her in, tasting salt and sweat and pure, unadulterated sex. Yelena came with a shattered scream, her ass clenching around Wanda’s tongue, her cunt milking the fingers inside her. It was a brutal, full-body convulsion.
Before the tremors even subsided, Wanda withdrew. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her own need a throbbing, urgent pulse between her legs. She needed friction, needed to claim.
“Up,” she ordered, swatting Yelena’s ass. “On your hands and knees. Now.”
Yelena, dazed and compliant, pushed herself up. She was unsteady, her arms trembling. Wanda moved behind her, close. She didn’t undress. She simply shoved her own tight black underwear aside, the fabric damp with her arousal.
She pressed herself against Yelena’s slick, spread folds from behind, the rough lace of her panties grinding against Yelena’s sensitive flesh. She wrapped one arm around Yelena’s waist, pulling her back tight against her body, and began to move.
It wasn’t penetration. It was something more primal. Wanda rolled her hips, grinding her clothed, throbbing pussy against Yelena’s ass and back onto her soaked slit. The dry-humping was relentless, a frantic chase for her own release. The wet, slapping sounds filled the room, mingling with their ragged breaths.
“You feel that?” Wanda growled into Yelena’s ear, her teeth grazing the lobe. “That’s how much I want you. How much I love what she gave me.”
Natasha was standing now, having left the couch. She approached the bed, her eyes dark, her own fingers still working between her legs. “Mommy,” she whimpered, the word a prayer and a surrender. “You look so powerful. Taking your gift so well.”
Hearing Natasha’s praise, hearing that submissive title, tipped Wanda over the edge. Her movements became erratic, her grip on Yelena bruising. She fucked against the curve of Yelena’s body with a savage finality, her climax tearing through her with a guttural cry. She shook, grinding hard as the waves crashed over her, staining her underwear, marking Yelena with the evidence of her pleasure.
She slumped forward, resting her forehead between Yelena’s shoulder blades, both of them panting. The room smelled of sex and jasmine and spent candles.
After a moment, Wanda lifted her head. Her green eyes found Natasha’s over Yelena’s bowed back. Natasha looked utterly shattered, beautiful in her want.
“Your turn, my love,” Wanda said, her voice soft but edged with a promise that vibrated in the heavy air. “Your gift has been unwrapped. Now I want to thank you for it.”