Breath-taking

Eve Angel rests on crisp white sheets, her skin warm against the fabric. Blonde hair spills across the pillow as she stretches, slow and deliberate. She traces the edge of her lace bra with one fingertip, then slides it lower. Her other hand follows the same path, and the two meet between her legs. She presses, circles, breathes out a soft sound that sounds almost like a laugh. Nothing rushed. Nothing hidden. She moves because she wants to, and the camera stays close enough to catch every shiver. She opens herself wider, one knee bent, the lace pulled aside. The strokes grow firmer. Her hips lift once, twice, settle again. The tension builds in her thighs and then breaks, quiet, sudden, complete. She stays still afterward, eyes half-closed, mouth soft. A single strand of hair sticks to her damp cheek. She brushes it away and smiles, small, private, already thinking about the next time.