Valentine's gifts

Sophie leans back against the headboard. She lets her robe slip off one shoulder, then the other. The pink lace of her bra catches the light. She traces the edge with her fingertips, circles each nipple until the thin fabric tightens. She slips the straps down her arms and frees her breasts, cupping them, feeling the weight, pinching the pink tips until a soft sigh leaves her lips. Her hand slides lower. She hooks her thumbs into the matching panties and peels them slowly down her thighs, the lace brushing her skin. Legs apart, knees bent, she reaches between them. Her fingers part her folds, find the slick heat already gathering there. She circles her clit with lazy strokes, the rhythm steady, unhurried. Every now and then her free hand drifts back to squeeze a breast or tug at a nipple, keeping the pleasure building in two places at once. Her hips lift in small, needy movements. A flush spreads across her chest. She dips two fingers inside, curls them, drags them out wet. The strokes grow faster, sharper. She finds the exact angle that makes her breath catch. Her thighs tremble. A sharp gasp, then a longer moan as the orgasm rolls through her. She stays open, legs still spread, letting the aftershocks pulse around her fingers. Finally she brings those fingers to her lips and sucks them clean, eyes half-lidded, mouth curved in a lazy smile. Her gift, delivered.