Heat.
It pressed against Rey's skin, seared through her blood, and coiled deep in her belly. She gasped, her body arching against the invisible weight that held her down. Hands her body recognised—strong, calloused, certain—slid over her hips, across her ribs, branding her skin with fire.
Her back arched as his mouth closed over a taut n****e, hot tongue teasing until she gasped his name. Thick fingers spread her open, stroking her with agonizing slowness, wetness gathering as he pressed the heel of his palm against her aching centre.
"Please..." The word tore from her throat in a breathless, desperate plea.
"Look at you," his voice rasped, dark with satisfaction and dripping with need, "so ready for me. My sweet little storm."
His hand gripped her thigh, holding her wide as his mouth
