She always would. She bound across the purple carpet and swept me into her arms. ‘I missed you, Hart,’ she whispered into my hair. ‘Me too, Fla...e. I missed you too.’ That night we fucked like hummingbirds, sweet and shy and born aloft by a desperate, nervous energy, and when she finally lit against my breast, I ran my hand through her molten hair and hummed a song our mothers knew. ‘Will you stay,’ she asked, ‘this time?’ I hummed softly and stroked her hair and said nothing. I knew she knew. I know how sensitive her nipples are, how much she loves to have them touched and played with. My hand covering her stomach slides low, settling over the curls I know are starting to dampen with her need. I use the tips of my fingers to tease her skin at the crease of her thigh, not touching where she most wants me. Teasing is part of the game. The movement of her hips goes from swaying to rotating so that the curves of her ass brush against my straining cock. I clench my jaw to stop the groan. More

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