Luxury girl

My place drips with money. Marble counters. A view that could stop traffic. Yet there she is, stretched across the sofa in nothing but thin cotton panties, the expensive rug ignored beneath her bare feet. One hand slips inside the waistband and finds the wet heat she was chasing all morning. Blonde hair fans across the cushion as her thighs ease wider, then tighten again when two fingers stroke the spot that makes her breath catch. Slow circles turn fast. She bites her lip, eyes half-closed, lost in the simple, greedy rhythm she prefers over everything the city outside can offer.