Quiet nights

Quiet nights call for her hands. The blonde stretches across cool sheets in nothing but sheer black lingerie, legs open, nipples stiff beneath lace. Her fingertips trace the edge of her panties before slipping inside, finding wet heat already waiting. She rubs slow circles over her clit, breath catching each time her own touch hits just right. Alone in the dark she chases that first spark, hips lifting, thighs tightening around her wrist. Pleasure builds fast. She works her fingers deeper, fucking herself with a steady rhythm, thumb still teasing her swollen clit. Her other hand cups her breast, pinching the stiff peak until she gasps. Every stroke pulls a soft, desperate sound from her throat. She does not hold back. She wants to feel herself come, needs the sharp rush that only her own touch can give right now. And she will keep going until the sheets are damp and her body is shaking.