Spicy

She arches at the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, one heel hooked over the headboard. The toy hums between her folds, slick and shining each time she draws it back to circle her clit. A slow drag, then a quick press. She watches the toy disappear, watches the muscles in her thighs jump. Sweat beads along her collarbones. She bites her lip hard enough to leave a mark. The sheets bunch in one fist; the other keeps the buzzing head flush against her, grinding in tight figure-eights until her breath stutters. She pauses, inhales, then does it again—harder, wetter, louder—until the first tremor rolls through her hips and the moan finally breaks free.