My head falls back weakly against his shoulder, in complete and utter abandon. “I want your hands on me. All over me. Inside me. Please."
A long silence follows, then his hand finally moves properly. Not rough or frantic, just deliberate and focused. A gasp escapes me as pleasure unfurls through my body, slow and devastating. Water laps against the edge of the tub as I arch helplessly, every nerve suddenly awake.
His fingers dance over my c**t, my parted lips, before they slide slowly into my honeyed channel, just a bit, then a bit farther, then a bit deeper, then withdraw to circle my hard little bud once more. I tremble violently in his arms while he touches me with unbearable patience, every stroke measured as though he’s learning me piece by piece.
It’s perfect. It’s torture. It’s
