Layla considers it one of her secret weapons.
Serena especially loves to trace Layla’s freckles with her fingers. She has a broad spatter of them across the back of her shoulders, like little tan morsels.
Layla is not ticklish, unfortunately, but she does shiver when Serena plays connect the dots. Even more so when she uses her tongue.
There are a few, larger stray freckles, too. They make a disjointed trail down toward Layla’s delectable rump, on which the right cheek has a cutely shaped birthmark. It looks a bit like a teacup.
The first time Serena commented on it, Layla cheekily replied, “perhaps you should add some sugar then.” She wriggled her rump.
Serena had rolled her eyes. Those damn trashy novels. Would she never hear the end of them?
Serena laughs to herself as she remembers that moment, while her mouth makes a warm trip down Layla’s spine.
“Something funny?” Layla asks.
Serena flicks a finger over the birthmark. “Tea time,” she says.
Layla snickers. “I guess it is.” Her body shakes as she laughs a little harder. “Better get to brewing.”