Arwen didn't answer. She simply leaned against Ethan's chest and let her body relax there, as if that were the most natural place in the world for her.
The young lord kept his hand exactly where it was, resting open on the beautiful elf's left buttock. The plump, soft flesh was warm and heavy beneath the thin fabric, spilling over his fingers with every gentle squeeze.
Without haste, his fingers slid into the valley between her two pale mounds, sinking in slowly and dragging the light green dress along with them. The soft cheeks parted around his knuckles, then closed back over them, warm and pliant, swallowing his fingers a little more with every inch.
The fabric buried itself in the crevice, hugging every curve, while a stifling heat rose from between her cheeks and wrapped around his hand.
