I kept my mouth on her breast and my hand between her legs, rubbing slow, firm circles over the thin shorts. The fabric was already damp under my fingers. Every time I pressed a little harder, her hips lifted to meet the pressure, and a soft, broken sound left her throat.

Her fingers stayed buried in my hair. She was not pushing me away. She was holding me there.

I switched to the other breast and sucked the nipple deeper into my mouth. My tongue dragged over it in lazy strokes while my hand never stopped moving between her thighs. The heat in the living room made everything feel slower....