Previously…
Sara’s hands curled into fists inside her sleeves as Tessa gushed about it for the hundredth time.
As she replayed the memory, her reaction now mirrored her reaction then.
What was done, was done.
But as she played it all back in her head…
How it happened.
What led to her actions.
She realized that she would have done it all over again.
Tessa couldn’t see it then.
Not yet.
But she could.
She had no choice.
Someone had to break the spell.
And that bitch along with it.
Playing with Fire (Ep 8)
Tessa wiped sauce from the corner of her mouth, giggling through a mouthful of brisket.
“I swear, if I die from this cholesterol, tell my mom I went out happy.”
Sara laughed. “I bet you’d haunt this place.”
“Absolutely. I’d possess the smoker.”
They were both warm from the food, the beer, and the buzz of good music.
It was the first time Tessa had seemed lighter in weeks. Her eyes brighter. Her laugh real.
Sara let herself enjoy it, for exactly five seconds.
That’s when she felt it.
A shift.
She turned her head and there she was.
Peyton.
Standing just inside the patio, scanning the crowd.
Her short black hair, damp from the rain, and tucked behind one ear.
She was wearing a hot pink tank top with a black leather jacket over it.
Her cleavage was fantastic.
The kind that stopped your heart and made you feel guilty—not for looking but for what you were thinking after looking.
The moment their eyes met, everything slowed.
Sara didn’t look away.
Neither did Peyton.
Tessa perked up. “Oh my god, she came!”
She stood and waved Peyton over.
As Peyton approached, Sara took a sip of her drink.
Fire in her bloodstream.
Ice on the surface.
“This is Sara,” Tessa said, glowing.
Sara stood. Holding her gaze.
Peyton smiled, polite but intrigued.
“Sara the great! Nice to meet you. Tessa’s practically obsessed with you.”
Sara steps in.
Kissing her on one cheek.
Then the other.
A soft, European-style greeting.
Her hands rested briefly at Peyton’s waist, pulling her in just slightly.
Holding her there just a little longer than she should.
When they pulled apart, Peyton was clearly flustered.
Sara looked down at her nipples poking through her shirt, then smiled slyly…
“You must be freezing”
Peyton looked down, noticing herself, and blushed.
She sat down in the third chair at the small round table—trying to play it cool.
Tessa didn’t notice.
But Sara did.
Her pulse quickened.
She didn’t have to fake the chemistry.
It was there—undeniable and low-burning, humming under the surface like a secret they hadn’t said out loud yet.
Sara felt it the moment they touched.
It wasn’t just the way she looked—though, yeah, that didn’t hurt.
It was the way she carried herself.
The stories she told.
She was funny. Surprising. Unapologetically bold.
She talked like someone who had seen the world and lived through it.
A freedom. And confidence.
If Sara was going to fuck her, it certainly wouldn’t be torture.
For the first time in as long as she could remember, she wasn’t bored.
She was engaged.
Finding herself leaning forward with interest—and being charming, responsive, and locked in.
They both made an effort to keep Tessa in the conversation.
But something else was happening, too.
Something in the subtext.
Glances.
Quick little winks when Tessa said something wild.
Touches that could be explained away if anyone was watching.
Sara let her fingertips brush Peyton’s hand when she passed her the napkins.
Later, she rested her foot just lightly against Peyton’s ankle beneath the table.
Sara didn’t move it.
Neither did Peyton.
When Tessa got up to go to the bathroom—asking if either of them wanted to come—Sara just smiled and shook her head.
Peyton said, no as well.
And once they were alone, the silence became electric.
Sara leaned in slightly. “You must have a great Instagram with all your travels.”
Peyton laughed. “It’s mostly me trying to get good lighting in bathrooms. But yeah, I’ve got some stunners on there too. What’s your username? I’ll request you.”
She rattled off her handle and Peyton sent the request immediately.
Sara started scrolling.
She bit her lip—just briefly—then glanced up.
“This has been an interesting night,” she said.
Peyton smiled, a little softer. “Yeah. It’s like… warm in here.”
Sara met her eyes, “I see what Gary saw in you.” she said boldly
It landed.
A slight change in Peyton’s posture.
But she recovered fast. “I see what Tessa sees in you.”
Sara smiled. “Mm.”
Sara followed up, “I always think that there are two different conversations happening when you meet new people...”
Peyton tilted her head, intrigued.
Sara went on—slow and unbothered. “The one that’s happening above the table…”
Her foot slipping between Peyton’s legs nudging them open.
“…and the one that’s happening below.”
She put her hand on Peyton’s thigh letting it drift under the hem of Peyton’s skirt—letting it rest there until one of them flinched.
It wasn’t dramatic. But it was clear.
Sara was focused but Peyton’s soft skin felt electric.
As brazen as she appeared to be, her head was spinning.
She could feel Peyton stiffen slightly—then exhale.
Her body saying more than her mouth ever could.
Tessa reappeared, sliding back into her seat, completely unaware.
“I’m so glad you guys are hitting it off!”
Peyton smiled a little too fast. Looking down at her drink. Tucking her hair behind her ear.
Sara let her hand linger just a moment longer, then pulled it away.
The burning sensation in her fingertips lingering.
She reached for Tessa’s hand across the table and squeezed it gently.
“I’d love to stay,” she said, standing. “But I’ve gotta meet up with some friends.”
She turned toward the window—it was raining now.
She leaned over, gave Peyton a quick handshake.
Nothing inappropriate.
Just enough to create a lasting impression.
“Nice meeting you,” she said.
She looked at Tessa. Then back at Peyton.
“Geez. If I’d known I was gonna get wet tonight, I would’ve dressed more appropriately.”
She flashed Peyton the slightest of winks, then pulled her collar up, and headed for the door.
Tessa called after her—loud enough for Sara to hear.
“She’s going to meet up with her vampire!”
She turned with a sinister smile and said, “Tessa dear, I am the vampire…”
Before slipping out into the rain.
She wasn’t keeping track of her mileage.
Every step was a memory she couldn’t forget.
Every inhale was a lie she’d swallowed whole.
Every exhale was a name she wasn’t supposed to say.
Peyton.
Tessa.
Aya.
She clenched her jaw and pushed harder.
Peyton gasped as Sara shoved her back against the door.
Hard.
The click of the door closing echoed behind her, followed by the low thud of Sara’s palm on the wall beside her head.
Sara didn’t speak.
She didn’t smile.
She just stared—eyes locked, breathing controlled, concealing a fire.
Peyton’s mouth parted.
God, that mouth
Sara kissed her.
No flirting, no warm-up.
She just dove right in—tongue first like she wanted to taste her thoughts before she took her body.
Peyton moaned into her mouth.
Sara wanted this way too much.
Her body was trembling.
She was going to ruin this bitch.
She grabbed Peyton’s waist and walked her backward, as she savored the taste.
They danced across the floor, pushing and pulling, leading and following, a rhythm with no wasted movement.
By the time the backs of Peyton’s knees hit the bed, she was already breathless.
Sara didn’t let her fall back.
She peeled the leather jacket from her shoulders and tossed it aside.
Then pulled the hot pink tank top over her head—deliberate and dominant.
Like she was unwrapping something she intended to use.
Peyton’s tits bounced free, nipples erect.
Sara paused.
She was fucking gorgeous.
Peyton whimpered. “Is this what you wanted?”
Sara didn’t answer.
“Say something…” she begged.
“You are so fucking beautiful. I’ve been thinking about this since the first time I saw you.”
Peyton’s eyes flashed weakness and desire.
Peyton wrapped her arms around Sara’s neck pulling her mouth to her own.
Tongue exploring— it felt even better than Sara imagined.
It was everything she could do to keep from melting.
Peyton whispered in her ear, “touch me.”
She pushed Peyton down onto the bed.
Climbed over her—fluid, confident, knees framing her hips.
She wrapped her hand gently but firmly around Peyton’s throat as she lowered her mouth to her chest.
Licking once.
Then she bit—just enough to make Peyton jolt and groan.
Sara dragged her tongue around the nipple, slow and wide, sucking it into her mouth and moaning softly.
Peyton squirmed.
Sara moved her attention lower.
Her free hand moving down and hiking up Peyton’s skirt.
Slipping her fingers under the fabric of Peyton’s black lace thong and dragging them down, slow and wet.
“You’re soaked,” Sara murmured. “Look at you.”
Peyton reached down—desperate to touch something, anything.
Sara caught her wrists and pinned them over her head.
“You like to play games don’t you?” Sara taunted
Peyton couldn’t talk, she just bit her lip and nodded guiltily.
Sara rose to her knees, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it aside—no bra.
No modesty.
Her perky tits on display, her neck and chest full of bruises.
Peyton laughed, “the vampires?”
Sara just smiled, nodding intently.
Acutely aware of Peyton filling the space between her parted thighs.
Squeezing Peyton’s neck firmly in one hand, while the other reached behind her own back, working Peyton’s clit.
Peyton’s eyes widened.
She loved it.
Sara’s fingers went to work.
Fuck, it wasn’t supposed to feel this good.
She couldn’t help but grind on Peyton’s stomach.
Peyton looked up at her in the full throes of agony and desire.
Watching Sara’s tits bounce slightly with the rhythm of her grinding.
Feeling the trail of wetness being laid across her skin.
Sara slipped a finger inside of her.
Then two.
Peyton’s legs trembled.
Her moans turning into gasps.
Her gasps turning into nonsense.
It wasn’t gentle.
It wasn’t sweet.
It was expert.
It was precise.
And still—Sara held her throat.
Her deep blue eyes staring into Peyton.
Watching her break.
Peyton’s legs trembled.
Her moans crumbling into gasps.
And just as Peyton’s body started to arch—
Peyton’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Sara’s voice…
“Don’t you dare come yet you little whore.”
Without a word she pleaded, trying her best to obey.
Fighting to hold her body back.
Payton whimpered.
“Wait…” Sara ordered.
Before climbing up Peyton’s body and filling her open mouth with one of her tits.
Peyton’s wet tongue devoured it desperately.
Moaning like should she was going to self destruct.
Sara grabbed her by the hair, pulling her ear to her mouth…
“Now.”
Peyton shattered.
Sara held her there.
Tongue working her ear.
Rocking into her.
________
The door burst open.
“Holy fuck.”
Two guys stood in the hallway—joints half-lit, eyes wide. They didn’t move. They just stood there dumbfounded. Like they had found the door to heaven.
Sara didn’t stop.
She simply stared them down.
“Get the fuck out,” she barked.
Her voice cut like a slap.
They jumped. One muttered something. The door slammed.
But Peyton didn’t hear any of it.
She was gone.
Moaning, writhing, hands grasping for skin, sound spilling from her mouth like music Sara couldn’t get enough of.
Peyton’s climax was like a glimpse at another world.
Sara growled.
“Jesus… bitch, you are enough to drive a girl crazy.”
Peyton’s eyes flickered—lust mixed with something softer underneath.
Her sweat glazed chest rising and falling like a filthy masterpiece.
Sara tilted her head. “I can’t fucking blame her, can I? I see what you do to people.”
Peyton reached for her, arms circling her neck.
Sara wasn’t prepared for this.
It was better than she imagined.
She wanted to surrender.
She resisted.
Sara’s grip on Peyton’s throat weakens.
And Peyton seizes the opportunity.
Her fingers sliding between Sara’s legs.
Peyton whispered breathlessly, “you are enjoying this as much as I am.”
A soft moan slipped from Sara’s lips.
Fuck
This wasn’t part of the plan.
Peyton’s fingers worked like a concert pianist on a national stage.
Sara’s body tremored involuntarily.
She was unraveling—fast.
Her body clenching, pulse racing.
She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cum tonight.
Not for her.
Not like this.
She needed to focus.
She needed control.
Her body didn’t respond.
It was like running through water in a nightmare.
“Now it’s your turn to lose…”
Peyton’s voice sounded rooms away but somewhere in Sara’s consciousness—it registered.
She yanked Peyton’s hand away and flipped her over with the technique of a collegiate wrestler.
Mounting behind her, she grabbed a fistful of Peyton’s hair, and slid her fingers back inside.
Deeper this time—rough and fast.
Peyton gasped.
“Fuck yeah, give it to me…”
Everything slowed.
She was soaked.
Sara moved without thought—fingers pumping, eyes tracing the way Peyton’s back arched, the way her body took everything and begged for more.
She didn’t see the door crack open again.
Didn’t feel the presence of the crowd gathering behind her.
She was too far gone.
Too angry.
Too turned on.
Word had spread fast.
Some girl was fucking Peyton upstairs.
Not kissing. Not hooking up.
Fucking.
Tessa was drunk enough to believe it might be a joke.
Drunk enough to think maybe it was nothing.
She shoved her way up the stairs, stumbling over someone’s bag, elbowing past the crowd at the door.
Then stopped.
The room froze around her.
Sara was on the bed.
Behind Peyton.
Fucking her.
Like she’d done it a hundred times.
Like she knew every inch of her body.
Tessa didn’t breathe.
Sara looked up.
Their eyes locked.
She didn’t flinch.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t stop.
Tessa blinked. Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.
She turned.
Ran.
Tears streaming down her face.
And Sara?
She didn’t chase her.
Didn’t apologize.
Didn’t look back.
She just pressed her hand deeper into arch in Peyton’s back.
And finished the job.
She could still feel Peyton’s skin on her fingertips.
Still hear Tessa’s voice in her head.
Still taste the moment everything changed.
Her feet pounded the pavement like a confession.
Harder. Louder.
She didn’t cry.
Didn’t scream.
Didn’t look back.
She just ran.
Fast. Focused.
Like if she kept going long enough, she might finally get free.
And behind her?
Everything was on fire.
(To be continued…)
Yes I want you