Bellissima

Bella arches for the camera and knows exactly what she’s doing. Christina stretches out across the sheets, the lean line of her legs drawing every eye upward. She slides a hand between her thighs, fingers parting already wet folds with unhurried grace. Her stomach tightens when she pushes two digits inside, slow and sure, then pulls them out glistening. She circles her clit, hips rolling in small, greedy motions, eyes half-lidded as the pleasure climbs. A quiet moan slips past parted lips; her free hand cups one breast, thumb stroking a stiffened nipple. Blonde strands stick to her damp cheek. She never breaks the rhythm. Every breath grows shorter until her back bows, thighs quiver, and a last, soft cry escapes as the orgasm rolls through her. She lingers, stroking softer circles, savoring the aftershocks, then smiles like she has a secret she’s never telling.