She imagined him behind her now. Big hands on her hips. Driving into her with ruthless precision. His c**k slamming deep, her back arching, her t**s bouncing with every thrust.
Her moans turned into soft cries.
Her fingers were soaked, slipping easily between her folds, spreading her slick. Her middle finger sank inside her and she nearly screamed. The stretch. The heat. The pressure. It wasn’t enough. She needed more. Needed him.
“f**k…” she whispered, breath catching.
Her hips rocked harder. Her palm ground against her clit while her finger curled inside her, stroking the spot that made her legs quake.
Christopher.
The name spilled from her lips again, half a breath, half a prayer.
“Christopher… Christopher, please…”
She didn’t know what she was begging for. She just knew her bod
