When Isabelle made an involuntary squeak in response to the way his voice dropped low, his lips stretched into a knowing smirk.
She would've found it charming if she could think.
Her ability to form coherent sentences disappeared as soon as his fingers started rubbing slow, deliberate circles against her slick labia, massaging her clit while applying light pressure to her entrance.
The soft sounds escaping him and the low rumble of his chest as he watched her squirm and buck beneath him sent a fresh wave of arousal rushing through her.
A need to do something about that overwhelming want overcame her.
She reached for the bedsheets with shaking hands to anchor herself and prevent herself from falling over, then began rocking her hips into his touch in time with his movements.
Isabelle was almost certain he was amused by that.
Almost.
