Damn, the place absolutely reeked—sweat for sure, but there was something kinda wild in the air, too. Heavy, musky, sweet in a way that made Ravina's head spin.
She just stood there, stiff as hell, nails digging little dents into her own arms. She couldn't stop watching Helen twist and shudder on that sorry excuse for a cot, like she was fighting her own body and losing, hard.
Helen looked like she'd just fought her way out of a mosh pit—hair plastered to her sweaty face, breath ragged, chest hammering almost obnoxiously loud. Her thighs were squeezed so tight, you'd think she was guarding some sort of national secret down there.
Every so often, her hips did this twitchy, urgent little move—like she was trying to find relief in thin air. Honestly, the girl seemed two seconds from absolutely losing it.
