Serena is one pretty package from top to bottom. Everything about her is gorgeous.
Even so, Layla has her favorites. Like Serena’s thick thighs. Her wide hips. Her olive skin. Her glossy black hair so long it falls to her waist like dark water. It’s as soft as silk and always smells of sweet oils from a distant land.
Layla likes to embrace Serena from behind, pressing her nose to Serena’s hair. She inhales deeply, enjoying the scent. Serena’s hair is so soft it tickles Layla’s cheeks.
“Do you mind?” Layla asks as she rubs Serena’s corset-covered belly.
Serena laughs and pats her hand. “No, my sweet. Indulge away.”
She hands Layla a brush and works her way free long enough to sit at her vanity. This puts her hair in easy reach for Layla to play with.
She isn’t skilled at the intricate knots and braids like Serena’s handmaidens. But this isn’t about style.
It’s about Layla getting to run her fingers through Serena’s hair.