Mikey's hands traced lower.
His palms moved slowly, reverently, tracing the intoxicating curves of her body—sliding past the soft swell of her breasts, down her trembling stomach, until they reached the heat of her soaked, aching core. The moment his fingers grazed her dripping folds, her breath hitched, deepened, turning ragged with raw, erotic need.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he eased a finger into her slick, pulsing heat—and sweet didn't even begin to cover it. She was unbearably tight, so tight that for a moment he struggled to slip in, her walls gripping him like a vice. But once he pushed past that initial resistance, he was welcomed into a world of molten silk, her inner walls warm, velvety, and dripping wet—utterly intoxicating.
