Thistle's fingers squirm into her wife, but when she starts to thrust, her wife's sodden panties catch on her fingers. She growls, and breaks the kiss to fumble down Eli's slacks and get unrestricted access to her cunt.

Elisandra yanks off the mess Thistle's made of her dress shirt and suit jacket, leaving her wearing nothing but her tie.  

Thistle laughs and pauses to undo it from Eli's neck. 

Eli is forced to lean in, and gets a kiss in for her trouble -

- but as soon as Thistle undoes her tie, she pushes her out of the window seat.

The wards break her fall to the hardwood, but the wind is knocked out of her - 

And then Thistle is atop her with her foot in her face. 

"Kiss," she orders. 

Elisandra blushes, but kisses diligently from her position on all fours.

"Clean it properly. Make me believe you want to please me."

Elisandra takes Thistle's toes into her mouth, and suckles and laps, moaning lowly.

"Get the heel."

She ducks her head and laps down Thistle's foot to her heel, then pauses there in a passionate kiss.

"How does it feel to worship the lowest, dirtiest part of your wife?"

"Good," Elisandra manages, her face still nuzzling Thistle's foot. "Right."

"If you want me to do anything more than let you kiss my feet, you'd better beg prettily."

"Please touch me, goddess, I need you, I ache for you, I crave you, please -"

"No." She makes a circular motion with one finger. "Roll over."

Elisandra obediently rolls over onto her back.

"I'm going to sit on your face and you are going to do your very best to please me. Are we understood?"

"Yes, goddess, please -"

Thistle sits, straddling Elisandra's head with her sex pressed to her face. 

Elisandra grabs Thistle's thighs and ass and grinds her face against her goddess' sex, tongue delving deep into her, eyes closed as she focusses on the feel of her wife's body against her.

Thistle strokes her hair softly, and moves slowly atop her, sighing as her hips work back and forth. There's no need for her to back off when her wife can just breathe right through her half-substantial body; she pins her down and keeps her right where she wants her.

One of Elisandra's hands creeps towards her sex -

Thistle sighs, and her hand goes to the sunflower pendant at her throat. 

"Are you going to make me play rough, dear?"