She shudders, a wanton groan rising in her throat at his touch. She wants to move again, wants to grind against his hand and his body, but she holds herself in check, forcing herself to enjoy this for the slow, sensual torture it is.

He touches her and she throbs, her quiet utterances telling him just how wrapped up she is. She's slick and hot under his thumb, that pearl of flesh standing up shamelessly for his attentions. This is the long slow tease, the marathon ascension. She's in no rush to the finish this time.

Her hands rise to cover her breasts, stroking and caressing where he can't reach, and below, just a slow circling of her hips, and that steady pulse, making sure to keep him stimulated.