Round 9

As Jeane's wings unfolded, their soft rustle mingled with the distant hum of the hotel's air conditioning, a stark contrast to the turbulent emotions swirling within her. The heat building within her was more than mere lust—it was a physical ache, a need that clawed at her from inside. Silra's eyes locked onto her wife's, a mix of admiration and barely restrained hunger dancing in their depths. Jeane's voice, low and husky, sent a shiver down Silra's spine as she whispered, "I don't know how much longer I can restrain myself." The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, as Silra's fingers trailed along Jeane's shoulder blade, feeling the soft feathers beneath her fingertips.