𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬 (𝐠!𝐩) 𝐱 𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)
saphira felt her stomach drop the second the door opened.
kamala stood there in a deep burgundy silk dress, skin glowing, hair pinned up like she was holding back secrets. she didn’t smile. didn’t blink. just opened the door wide enough to let the party noise spill out behind her.
saphira didn’t answer. she couldn’t. she was already fighting the heat creeping up the back of her neck. the memory of those lips on her throat. those hands on her thighs. that dick inside her, claiming something she never gave permission to lose.
“my mama made me,” said the voice beside her, cutting through the tension, talina harris her best friend since freshman year stepped past her mom with a bottle of pink moscato and a little silver tiara tilted on her curls.
“come on, girl,” talina called, “they got cornbread and shots in the kitchen!”
saphira followed. but she didn’t breathe again until she was deep inside the noise surrounded by cousins, aunties, neighbors, and laughter. talina’s new year’s party was always packed. but it had been two years since saphira had the nerve to show up. two years since she snuck into the guest bathroom, sat on the counter, and let kamala fuck the innocence out of her.
back then she wasn’t her friend’s mom. just ms. harris.
just the sexy woman with a husky laugh and long nails who offered her a ride home after dessert and ended up between her legs before midnight struck.
“you okay?” talina asked, nudging her.
“yeah,” saphira lied, sipping the drink someone handed her. “just hot.”
talina laughed. “you always been bad with heat. remember that night in miami?”
but saphira didn’t hear the rest.
because ms. harris… was watching her from the hallway. arms crossed. wine glass in hand. that same look from two years ago. the one that said you thought you could get away from me?
saphira looked away. fast.
long enough to eat. take a few pictures. post a boomerang. pretend nothing was throbbing.
“i gotta go,” she told talina, standing from the couch.
“already? it’s not even midnight.”
“my mom called,” she lied. “she’s havin’ a thing.”
talina pouted, but her glass was full and her cheeks were pink. she didn’t push.
saphira hugged her. waved goodbye to a few people. grabbed her coat and tried to move fast. her heels clicked loud across the wood floor as she headed to the front door.
but a hand caught her wrist before she could touch it.
“you not even gonna say hi?” kamala’s voice slid down her spine like liquor.
saphira turned slowly. she looked better up close. richer. more dangerous. diamonds in her ears. wine stain on her lips. nails red. smile sharp.
“you shouldn’t be talking to me like this,” saphira whispered.
kamala chuckled. “you mean like last time? when you bent over my guest sink and begged me to keep goin’ even after you came twice?”
saphira’s thighs clenched.
“you told me it didn’t mean anything,” she said, quieter.
kamala stepped closer. “i lied.”
saphira backed up until her back hit the wall.
“talina’s drunk,” kamala murmured, close now. “she won’t even notice you gone. why don’t we say happy new year the way we used to.”
saphira shook her head. “kam-“
kamala grabbed her chin and tilted her face up.
saphira swallowed hard. “we can’t.”
the guest room was quiet. warm. too soft.
saphira stood in the middle of the rug while kamala locked the door behind her and pressed her against it.
“you never should’ve let me taste you,” she whispered, lips brushing her neck. “you ruined me, baby.”
saphira gasped when kamala’s hands slid up her thighs and under her dress. thick fingers rubbing slow between the fabric, finding how wet she already was.
“fuck,” kamala hissed. “still drippin’ like you want me to catch you.”
“it’s wrong,” saphira whispered.
“then pray about it later.”
kamala pushed her back onto the bed. the straps of her dress slid down. her breasts spilled out and saphira moaned at the sight full and heavy, with a gold chain resting between them. her dick was already hard under the silk, thick and leaking through her briefs.
“open those legs,” kamala growled.
saphira did. panties soaked, mouth open. she trembled when kamala leaned down and kissed her thighs. slow. soft. then bit them.
“two years and you still act like this pussy don’t belong to me.”
kamala slid the tip in. thick. slow. so much stretch so fast that saphira cried out.
“shhh,” kamala whispered, choking her lightly with one hand. “you don’t wanna make noise, remember? your friend right down the hall.”
saphira nodded, eyes rolling.
kamala fucked her slow. deep. every stroke harder than the last. her red nails dug into saphira’s waist. she leaned down and kissed her like she loved her. like she hated her. like both at once.
“this my pussy,” she whispered. “always been. say it.”
saphira moaned. “it’s yours.”
kamala slapped her tit. “louder.”
kamala grinned. dark. proud.
and just like that, she fucked the countdown out of her.
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