Clide Woods
The house is quiet, but the steam from the shower next door still lingers in the air. I sit on the edge of my bed, tension coiling in my groin like a live wire. My hand itches, desperate for release, and I can’t ignore it any longer. My mind drifts uncontrollably to Amy—her scent, her shivers, the way she trembles under Kael’s touch.
I close my eyes, biting my lower lip, imagining her pressed against me, soft and wet, whimpering my name in that broken, desperate way she does when she loses control. My fingers flex, tracing slow lines over myself, teasing, desperate.
“f**k…” I groan, voice low and shaking. My other hand tangles in the sheets as I start, tentative at first, letting my mind drift further, imagining the heat of her skin, the tremble of her hips under my hands. M
