WILLOW
He cupped my p***y and I felt it jump and pulse under his palm like it had a mind of its own. Oh god, I was definitely losing my mind.
The heat from his hand seeped through the soaked lace, making my c**t throb harder, a fresh gush of wetness leaking out against his fingers. I hated how my body arched into it, how my hips rolled just a fraction, chasing the pressure like a slut in heat. His eyes darkened, the blue so intense it felt like drowning.
“Already soaked for me,” he growled, voice low and filthy, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. He rubbed slow, possessive circles over the lace, pressing the fabric into my swollen folds until it clung like a second skin. “Your greedy little cunt remembers me, Willow. Even if your pretty head doesn’t.”
“I don’t, I don’t know
