The thing about the fishnets is, that not only do Paige’s legs look amazing in them, but she knows it, too. At least eighty percent of Alicia’s impulse control is dedicated to trying not to tear them off her.
Now, though – now they’re alone in their hotel room – she can. Paige’s back is to the bed, shorts off – she’s in nothing but the tights and her underwear, hard nipples poking through the fabric of her bra, one strap falling off her shoulder. Alicia’s kneeling over her, fingers tracing over the thread of the fishnets.
“Careful, or you’ll rip them,” Paige says, though they both know that’s the point.
“Hm, but you’ve been through dozens of these now,” Alicia tells her. “I don’t see why one more won’t hurt.”
Paige’s smirk widens.
“True,” she says. “There’s another pack in my suitcase, anyway. So, these ones…”
“So that’s a yes?”
“What do you think?” Paige wiggles her hips up at Alicia. “Of fucking course!”
Her smirk turns into more of a grin, and Alicia has to smile too as she starts to tear apart the tights as carefully as she can, as she leans in close, as Paige’s legs wrap around her.