Netskirts #09

She lies back against rumpled sheets, skin flushed from what they've done. Nipples hard, gooseflesh along her ribs. Legs still open, thighs gleaming with him and her both. His mouth hovers at her cunt—slow, careful—like he's tasting wine instead of tracing where he just fucked her. He laps her open, tongue dragging through her folds. She twitches. A breath catches. He doesn't rush. Just works her like he could stay down there until morning. One finger slides back inside, curls, searches. Finds it. Presses. She jerks, hips canting up, and he holds her still with his other hand splayed wide across her belly. Tongue flicks again, slower now, circling. She makes a sound caught halfway between a gasp and a laugh. Another finger joins the first and she tightens around them. His lips close around her clit, drawing it in, then letting go. He works her open like that until her thighs start to shake and she stops trying to be quiet. One last slow lick from where his fingers disappear inside her up to the swollen bud above, and she comes again, small and sharp, her heels digging into his back. He pulls his fingers free, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looks up at her with that lazy, knowing half-smile.