Chapter 2: Building Tension
The merciless cheers and leers from the rowdy crowd filled the wet, dimly lit arena as Kylie and Layla locked eyes, each resolve burning hotter than the torches casting shadows against the stone walls.
Kylie knew that the games had already started - there would be no pausing for breath, no relinquishing the iron clinch she'd locked on her prey. Her eyes trailed up and down Layla's slick, toned form.
Although petite, Layla was athletically built; her scant swimsuit did nothing to hide her tight abdomen and toned legs. The glossy, wet fabric left little to the imagination and Kylie couldn't help but scowl. The audacity the little blonde had to grace this match in that minuscule ensemble was beyond Kylie's comprehension.
In the spirit of competition, the desire to rip each scrap of fabric from Layla's almost-naked body consumed Kylie's thoughts.
"Gentlemen and ladies, your match begins!" Dom Master announced, raising his arms before swiftly descending from the platform, leaving Kylie and Layla to face off in their own thick-aired world.
As if executing a feline prowl, Kylie took slow, deliberate steps toward her sweating opponent. Sliding her oil-slickened hands against Layla's sides, gasps escaped as she felt the easy bending of her body.
Hauling Layla against her, she murmured, "Ready for a ride, darling?"
Without waiting for an answer, she yanked the tiny scrap of fabric wedged between Layla's bottom, letting it snap back into place with mock innocence. "S-sorry," she sighed, forcing a laugh through her clenched teeth.
Kylie wrestled with the growing inferno within her. It begged for release, craved everything unhindered and fierce, as she looked deep into Layla's panicked eyes.