Steve let out a quiet breath, unable to hold back the way his body reacted.
The warmth of her hand, not perfectly soft but still so incredibly intimate, wrapped around him with a kind of raw tenderness that made his head spin.
It wasn't just the touch—it was the intent behind it. The attention. The heat building between them.
His other hand remained on her breast, fingertips circling around the peak of her nipple.
Two fingers traced slow, teasing spirals around the sensitive bud, watching how she shivered each time he made contact.
Her breath hitched. The rising tension in her thighs told him she felt it too—the aching burn growing between her legs, fed by every slow stroke and gentle tease.
But she didn't stop.
She kept stroking him, that same fluid rhythm, back and forth.
Her grip was steady now, confident, and with every stroke, she could feel him pulsing harder in her hand.
