“Please,” Becky says for what Sasha’s sure is at least the tenth time now. “Please, Sasha.”
Sasha smirks up at her from in between Becky’s legs, one hand lightly caressing the inside of Becky’s thigh, making her shiver. She knows there’s a dangerous glimmer in her eyes, one that says she’s delighting in every single second of just purely teasing Becky – and she is.
“Hm?” Sasha wonders, though she knows what Becky’s after. “Tell me what you want, Bex.”
“Touch me,” says Becky, the words spilling out so quickly, so easily. “Please,” she adds, sounding weak, and fuck, Sasha can’t call that anything other than begging.
Sasha complies, getting her hand closer, thumb circling Becky’s clit before moving down, and – “Shit, you’re so wet.”
Becky nods as if to say that she knows, moaning instead of actually speaking. Sasha really can’t blame her: she’s practically soaking the sheets. It’s lucky they’re at home tonight; Sasha doesn’t think she’d fancy calling up hotel room service to ask to change the bedding, though she’d rather not do it herself. Maybe Becky can do it. In fact, she probably will.
“Please, Sasha,” Becky says again. “Boss.”
At that, Sasha can’t help but let her smile – a real smile now, not just a smirk – widen.
“Only because you asked so nicely,” she says, though she would have done it anyway, and with her thumb back on Becky’s clit, she presses two fingers into Becky, finally giving her what she asked for – what she deserves.