Baby blue

Baby blue frames her face and makes the sweetness almost dangerous. Billie wears it like she knows the effect: soft lace pressed tight to her body, the color bright against her pale skin. She stands for a moment, letting the light hit her, then she slides a hand between her legs. Her fingers move in slow circles over the thin fabric, pressing harder as she feels the heat rising. The material grows damp, clings. She pushes it aside, skin to skin now, stroking with more purpose. Her other hand cups a breast, thumb brushing the nipple until it stiffens. She bites her lower lip, eyes half-closed, breath coming quicker. The strokes get firmer, quicker, slick sounds filling the quiet. Her hips roll forward, chasing the feeling. When she comes, it is sudden and sharp, a quiet cry caught in her throat, thighs trembling around her own hand.