Lor kept playing with her breasts while she moved.
He squeezed them when she went down. He rolled her nipples when she went up. Every time she seated herself fully, he pinched.
Kuri's breathing changed.
She tried to keep it even. She failed. A moan slipped out on the third descent, low and short. She cut it off by pressing her lips together.
"Stop making that face," she muttered.
"I'm not making a face. You're the one making sounds."
"I'm not."
She went up again. Down again. Her thigh muscles kept flexing, standing out under the pale skin. Her asscheeks met his lap every time with that same firm, warm press.
The wetness between them had started to make a small sound now, a slick pull when she rose and a thicker one when she sat.
Lor's fingers stayed on her nipples.
He pulled them gently outward, then let them spring back.
He rubbed the pads of his thumbs over the tight peaks in slow circles.
