Backstage of Daydreaming

Mia Stone sprawls across backstage shadows. Her blonde hair spills like warm honey across the couch. One hand slips beneath the hem of her dress, seeking heat. She pulls the fabric higher, exposing smooth thighs and the soft cotton between them. Fingers press. Circles tighten. Her breath hitches, quickens. Every stroke pushes deeper. She arches, breath catching on the quiet pulse building low in her belly. Summer heat clings to her skin, but she is hotter inside. Fingertips grow slick. She spreads wider, chasing the first tremor that rolls through her. Her hips lift off the cushions, chasing again. Blonde strands stick to her cheek. She bites her lip, lost, and lets the next wave claim her whole body.