I fell on top of her, perspiration from the warm evening lubricating my movements as I let my hands wander over her heaving chest and the smooth skin of her back. Hasiba arched her spine and exposed her throat to me. I painted her long graceful neck with my tongue, enjoying the salty taste of her skin, as I sent my hands exploring lower.
Her taut stomach quaked with shallow, rapid breaths as I slid my fingers over and around her warm skin, wanting nothing more than to dive in and touch her treasures, but at the same time savoring the anticipation.
Hasiba’s hips bucked as she did her best to encourage me. “Hilary Baxter, don’t make me wait anymore,” she breathed into my ear. That was enough.
I slid my hand lower, felt the warm moisture of her swollen folds under my fingertips, and presse
