The Jester & the Princess

iana lay sprawled across the oak desk, her chest still heaving, her dress bunched around her waist. Harley’s question about the key hung in the air, but the blonde’s dark eyes had already moved on to something else. The answer didn’t matter. Harley rose from Diana’s hips, her heels clicking against the polished wood as she stepped onto the desk’s surface. She stood over Diana, that pale body silhouetted against the candlelight. The black collar still circled her throat, catching the golden glow. “Now, where were we?” She reached down and unhooked her heels, letting them fall with two sharp clatters. Her bare feet pressed against the desk, toes curling against the grain. Diana watched her, still catching her breath. Still trying to remember why she had any objections. Harley’s grin widened. Then she moved. In one fluid motion, she turned and dropped into a squat—her cunt hovering inches above Diana’s face. The smell hit first: musky, damp, alive. The pink folds glistened in the candlelight, swollen with arousal, the dark curls above them slick with a mixture of her own juices and traces of Diana’s. “Open wide, Princess.” Diana’s hands came up instinctively, grabbing Harley’s thighs. The skin was warm and soft, the muscles tensing beneath her fingers. “I said open.” Harley’s hand grabbed a fistful of Diana’s dark hair, yanking her head back. The grip was strong—stronger than any normal human’s. That voice dropped to something low and dangerous. “You wanted the key, right? Well, I’m gonna give you something better. You’re gonna eat my cunt until I come, and then maybe I’ll tell you where it is.” Diana’s mouth fell open—not from the threat, but from the hunger that surged through her gut. The words shouldn’t work. They did.