Huh… huh… huh…
Those were the only sounds she could manage as I worked my fingers inside her.
I was fully dressed for work and had no time to undress or take things further. So I slid two long fingers into her, curling them just right, making her breathless and shaking.
“Don’t die on me,” I murmured.
“Huh… it’s touching the right places,” she gasped.
That’s Zara. My s*x-obsessed niece.
I kept a steady rhythm, pressing the heel of my palm against her c**t while my fingers stroked that swollen spot inside her. Her thighs trembled around my wrist. She was already soaked, the wet sounds embarrassingly loud in the quiet kitchen.
Zara’s back arched off the counter. One of her hands clutched my shirt, wrinkling the fabric I’d ironed twenty minutes ago. The other fisted in her own hair as a
