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Faith

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Morgana watches her because she likes to. She’s small for a warrior but deceptively strong. She takes on six men and wins, all wearing leather pants and high-heeled boots.

Morgana doesn’t know her name, just her title: slayer.

She’s dark and powerful and independent, and Morgana would be lying if she said she doesn’t see a bit of herself in this woman.

Two vampires are dust, and another two attack, and somewhere in the action, Morgana loses sight of the slayer.

As Morgana turns to leave, a hand covers her mouth and something sharp digs into her chest over her heart.

“Come with me, sweetheart.” Her voice is low and wet against Morgana’s ear. She goes easily.

The slayer shoves her through the streets past darkened windows, and Morgana would kill anyone who touched her this way. Anyone but this solid woman at her back whose body hums with vigor. She smells like exertion, like sweat and something darker—something like arousal.

Morgana finds herself pressed against a door, feels the slayer’s hand behind her reaching into a pocket. She unlocks the door and shoves Morgana inside a dingy motel room. The lights are already on.

The slayer closes the door and releases Morgana, who turns to face her. She’s leaning back against the door, picking at the dirt under her nails.

Up close, the slayer’s all toned muscle and dark lipstick that Morgana wants to smear all over that pretty white skin.

“You’ve been watching me. Why?” She looks up with surprisingly soft brown eyes.

Morgana crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at her.

“Okay, how about this? I’m Faith. And you’re...”

“Morgana,” she says. Why not?

“Morgana,” Faith echoes. She slides off her leather jacket and lets it drop to the floor, striding across the room and plopping down on her bed. She leans back, legs dropping open, and quirks her lip like she’s done it a million times, and she probably has. That doesn’t make it any less effective.

Morgana doesn’t move. She knows why she’s here, but she doesn’t want to be the one to crack.

When Faith stands and grabs her by the hips, crashes her down into the bed, Morgana thinks that maybe she’s never been in control here.

And that’s surprisingly okay.

Morgana learns very quickly that Faith doesn’t kiss. She’s all teeth and tongue and growls, and Morgana can’t get enough of it.

Faith is also impatient. She starts by rumpling Morgana’s skirt up to her waist and prying her legs apart. She shoves past Morgana’s panties to stuff three fingers inside, sucking at her clit through lace. She goes so hard it hurts. She’s merciless, and it’s just perfect enough to make Morgana come within minutes.

Faith keeps going, licking ruthlessly, twisting another finger into her cunt, and it’s too much. Morgana yanks on Faith’s hair, trying to pull her head away, and that only makes her go harder. It comes as an utter shock to Morgana when she feels her body respond. She shoves Faith’s face harder against her, humping against her mouth, and shouts her orgasm.

Faith finally pulls away and wiggles out of her leather pants, and of course she wasn’t wearing underwear. She leaves her boots on.

Faith straddles Morgana’s face and rides her hard. Morgana presses her tongue between Faith’s full lips and sucks, trying to keep up with her pace. Faith growls low and mean, and Morgana lifts her hand to slide a finger into her sex.

“Fuck, I’m not new to this,” Faith grits out. “Give me more.”

Morgana shoves her remaining fingers roughly into Faith’s cunt and is rewarded with an even more brutal face-fucking. She keeps sucking, rubbing her tongue hard against Faith’s clit. She pulls all four fingers forward again and again, slamming against Faith’s G-spot.

“Filthy slut,” Faith says, and Morgana isn’t sure who she’s referring to. It doesn’t matter anyway.

Even if Faith weren’t a screamer, which she completely is, there is no question when she comes. Faith’s pussy clamps down on Morgana’s fingers so hard she has to remove them, and then suddenly everything is wet. Faith gushes liquid all over the bed, Morgana’s hair, her face. She comes so much Morgana thinks she might drown in it, and it’s so fucking hot she doesn’t even care. She’s coughing and sputtering against the flow of Faith’s orgasm, and this is exactly what Morgana wanted this evening.

The moment Faith’s legs stop shaking, she climbs off Morgana’s face and shoves her off the bed.

“I’ll be honest, M,” she says, taking off her shirt and heading for the bathroom. “I generally go for blonds.”

Wobbling over to the door, Morgana can’t quite find it in herself to be offended.