After that stormy night under the blankets, Harper and Quinn became completely addicted. The hunger hit them hard and fast. Every look, every brush of skin turned into something desperate and filthy. In the tiny snowed-in cabin, there was nowhere to hide from it.
Quick, desperate sessions started happening everywhere.
The next morning, while they tried to make breakfast, Quinn came up behind Harper at the kitchen counter. Harper was stirring oats when Quinn pressed against her back, hands sliding under her thermal top. Before Harper could speak, Quinn yanked her shorts down and pushed two fingers deep inside her from behind.
“f**k… you’re already wet for me,” Quinn growled in her ear.
Harper gripped the counter, moaning loudly as Quinn fingered her hard and fast. The sound of wet slapp
