Daphne Scooby Doo Hot Novels & Stories

I savor her with calculated slowness, cruelly attentive to every quiver she cannot repress. My hands are not idle. They glide beneath the water, mold to the arch of her lower back, the curve of her buttocks, travel back up along the inside of her thighs. She is so soft. So warm. Everywhere. She recoils, arches, her hips undulating despite herself, seeking a friction I still refuse. I turn her over. Her nape is offered, her hands grip the edge of the tub. I press my body against her back, holding her firmly. I am hard, painfully hard, pressed against the cleft of her buttocks. She feels it. A tremor runs through her.