Without words

She doesn’t need to speak. Her eyes say it for her. They’re big, bright, locked on nothing in particular while her hand moves between her legs. She is young, blonde, and Russian, and the only language she knows right now is pleasure. Fingers slide over smooth skin, slow at first, then quicker. Her lips part, a soft sound slips out, and her back arches against the sheets. Every stroke makes her breath catch. She watches herself, cheeks flushed, hips pushing up to meet her own touch. Nothing else matters. The quiet room fills with the wet sounds of her fingers working and the little gasps she can’t hold back. Her body knows exactly what it wants, and she gives it everything without a single word.