Burning
"Kiss me," said Faye, and she did.
Fire was on her lips when she touched Faye's skin. It burned and crackled when she caught her hands in the cinder-black hair. Heat filled her center, pooled there like lava as their mouths worked over each other, again, again. Faye's hands were brutal, like brands on her breasts through her white cotton shirt. There was sweat from the heat on her palms, the back of her neck, between her legs.
Hips ground upward, forward, hot, making Diana cry out.
"Then you'll be part of the fire too," Faye whispered, and thrust again.