She thought she had her

 The room was thick with the scent of sweat, coconut oil, and raw desire. The elegant bedroom, had been their private arena for nearly four hours. What started as playful, teasing tribbing between two of the most competitive women in the underground sexfight circuit had long since turned primal.

Lacy, the fiery redhead with the long legs and wicked smirk, had finally wrested the top position twenty minutes ago. She’d pinned Bridget’s wrists above her head, slotted their slick pussies together in a perfect, grinding scissor, and rode her hard, hips rolling with merciless precision. Lacy’s clit, swollen and hypersensitive from the marathon, dragged over Bridget’s again and again, forcing broken moans from the blonde’s throat. For a glorious moment, it looked like Lacy was going to break her. Bridget’s eyes had fluttered, her thighs trembling, her breath coming in desperate little gasps of “fuck… fuck… Lacy…”

But Bridget never tapped. Never submitted.

Now the tide had turned in the cruelest way possible.

Lacy was still technically on top, her pale thighs locked around Bridget’s hips, their drenched cunts fused in a slippery, obscene kiss, but Bridget had planted her feet on the mattress and started bucking upward with savage force. Each thrust lifted Lacy’s entire body an inch off the bed, slamming their clits together with wet, filthy smacks that echoed off the walls. Lacy’s arms shook as she tried to keep Bridget’s wrists pinned, but her grip was slipping. Sweat dripped from her temples onto Bridget’s flushed chest.

“Give it up, baby,” Bridget growled, voice husky and triumphant. Her blue eyes blazed up at Lacy, lips curled in a predator’s grin. “I can feel you throbbing. You’re right there… aren’t you?”

Lacy whimpered, an actual broken whimper, and tried to grind down harder, desperate to regain control. But Bridget’s upward thrusts were relentless now, perfectly timed, each one catching Lacy’s clit at just the right angle. The redhead’s rhythm faltered. Her back arched involuntarily, hips stuttering.

“No… no, fuck you, I’ve got you...” Lacy started, but the words dissolved into a strangled cry as Bridget snapped her hips again, harder.

Bridget laughed, low and filthy, and suddenly twisted her wrists free. In one fluid motion she grabbed Lacy’s ass with both hands, yanked her down, and rolled her hips in a vicious circle that mashed their clits together so perfectly Lacy saw stars.

“That’s it,” Bridget whispered, voice dripping with victory. “Come for me, princess. Right on my pussy like the little slut you are.”

Lacy’s whole body seized. Her thighs clamped around Bridget’s waist, trembling violently. A desperate, keening sound tore from her throat as the orgasm she’d been fighting for the last ten minutes finally ripped through her. She came hard, gushing against Bridget’s cunt, hips jerking helplessly as wave after wave crashed over her.

Bridget didn’t let up for a second. She kept grinding, chasing her own release now, riding Lacy’s spasming pussy until her own climax hit, back bowing off the bed with a guttural moan, nails digging into Lacy’s ass.

When it was over, Lacy collapsed forward, forehead pressed to Bridget’s collarbone, both of them panting, trembling, utterly spent.

Bridget stroked a lazy hand through Lacy’s damp red hair and smirked against her temple.