Bathing Venus

Adriana Malkova stands naked in the marble tub, every curve and hollow catching the soft light like carved stone come to life. Her body is the goddess on the pedestal—only warmer, breathing, alive. She sinks lower, water sliding up her thighs, over the swell of her hips, until it pools at the soft line beneath her breasts. One hand rests on the rim. The other dips between her legs and finds the slow, aching spot she came here to touch. Her fingers move with lazy precision, circling, pressing, teasing the heat that has nothing to do with the bathwater. Her nipples tighten above the surface. Her head tips back, lips parted, a small sound escaping each time she pushes two fingers inside. Blonde hair clings to her neck and shoulders. She keeps her knees open, letting the water kiss every inch of her while her hand works deeper, quicker, until the first shudder rolls through her. She smiles at the feeling like someone who knows exactly what her body can do and has no intention of stopping until she’s done.