She obeys him, arms outstretched, breasts pressing against the granite surface, her pale ass presented. She’s a lovely sight from behind, the spread of her hips tapering to a waist still taut and narrow after her first child. Her hair fans out, copper-red and silken over the counter.
I push her down, my palm between her shoulder blades, then shove her ankles apart with my bare feet. As her thighs open, the tang of her arousal billows up. James watches, his normally dark eyes even darker, creasing at the corners.
“I think she’s ready for you now, James.”
“I’d say you"re right.” He stands behind her, a cheek cupped in either hand, then runs palms over her, massaging, soothing, sliding from the firm flesh of her rump, up and over her waist, her ribs, her shoulders, then back again, outlini
