She gets tripped

Bayley kept her grip on Lyra’s hair and reached down with her free hand, fingers hooking into the waistband of Lyra’s trunks. She started to yank, ready to peel them down and even the exposed score once and for all.

Lyra moved first.

Even dazed, she hooked a leg around Bayley’s ankle and jerked hard. Bayley’s boots skidded on the gravel. She pitched forward, forehead cracking solidly against the side of the car with a sharp, metallic thunk. The impact rang through her skull. Bayley dropped hard, both hands flying to her head as she groaned and curled on the ground.

She rolled onto her side, then further, ending up on her stomach with her back and hips turned toward Lyra. The blue-and-silver tights stretched tight across the full, round curve of her ass—thick, powerful, and prominently on display under the harsh backlot lights.

Lyra pushed herself up on one elbow, still breathing hard, the dark blue Calvin Klein bra rising and falling with each breath. Her eyes locked onto the sight in front of her. Bayley’s big, shapely arse filled her vision… but something else caught her attention even more. Right at the top of the tights, where the fabric had shifted from the fall and the struggle, a thin shimmer of black peeked out above the waistband.

Black fabric. Smooth. Familiar.

Lyra’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

“Well, well…” she murmured, voice low and edged with fresh mischief. “What do we have here?”