(Artwork by @javi_khoso on X)
His lips found the curve of her neck, his mouth drawing suction, and she arched against the rush of sensation. He pressed a knee forward, between her legs, providing her with a point of friction that she ground against immediately, chasing some kind of relief. An ache she was certain that only he could soothe.
She felt clumsy, inexperienced, but somehow safe in the circle of his arms, like whatever happened, he’d be there to catch her.
His mouth dragged down her chest, and his hand withdrew from under her shirt to tug down the square neckline he’d been eyeing earlier. The cut felt almost salacious on her figure, but she’d chosen it today specifically for him. It had been years since she’d dressed for male attention, and she was drunk on her success.