She reached down, grabbing my wrist. Her nails dug half-moons into my skin, a silent warning. "Enough talking." Her voice shook with need, with anger, with something deeper that neither of us was ready to name. "Show me I'm still your queen."
I pulled her panties aside and slid one finger through her folds, finding her slick and ready. The wet sound seemed obscenely loud in the quiet room, a betrayal of her body's secrets. When I brushed against her clit, her hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of anything I was willing to give.
"Careful now," I warned, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with maddening slowness. "Too loud and I'll have to stop. We wouldn't want to wake our dear neighbor, would we?"
