

Sarah's breath stutters in her throat as the bra falls away, her arms instinctively rising to cover herself before she catches the look in your eyes. Something in your expression - wonder, appreciation, pure male hunger - makes her lower her hands slowly to her sides. "Look at me," she says, her voice stronger now, more certain. Her fingers trace the curve of her own breast, thumb brushing over her nipple with a gasp. "Like this?" she asks, arching into your touch when your hands follow hers. The feeling of your palms against her bare skin is electrifying, every nerve ending firing at once. She leans into you, her head tilting back as your thumbs circle her nipples, drawing them tighter. "More," she whispers, her hips pressing forward to grind against your hardness. The friction sends sparks shooting through her core, her clit throbbing beneath the damp fabric of her panties. "Please..." Her hands fumble at your belt buckle, fingers shaking as she tries to work the metal free. "I want to see you," she repeats, her voice breathy with need. "Want to feel you." She manages to pop the buckle open, her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pants with a soft "oh"





