The last of the tension seeped out of Summer under Victor’s hands, replaced with dreamy lassitude. Before long every motion of his fingers triggered a low moan and a slow grinding of her hips. The fine hairs on her skin stood up in his wake, drawing shudders from the muscles underneath.
“Yes Victor,” Summer said meekly. She rolled over and off her hair, yanking the teal cotton over her head and dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. She hadn’t bothered with a bra that morning, and rolled back over to snuggle against Victor. “Do I meet your approval now?” she asked coyly.