My little toy

Her red hair spills like fire across pale skin. One look and the room already feels warmer. Then Leila slips off everything else. The small pink slit between her thighs gleams, tight and ready. When no one else is around to stretch it open, she reaches for the toy she calls little. She works it in, inch by slick inch, hips lifting to meet each thrust until the only sound left is the wet pull of her body taking what it wants.