Avery's fingers stayed locked on the wooden frame.
My middle finger kept its slow, curling drag inside her.
The kitchen light fell across the toes of her bare feet and stopped just short of her ankles.
From this angle I could see the line of her spine under the thin top.
The way her shoulders stayed rigid.
Avery's fingers stayed locked on the wooden frame.
My middle finger kept its slow, curling drag inside her.
The kitchen light fell across the toes of her bare feet and stopped just short of her ankles.
From this angle I could see the line of her spine under the thin top.
The way her shoulders stayed rigid.
The small, involuntary roll of her hips each time I pressed the pad of my finger against the soft place high inside her.
She tried to keep her breathing even.
It did not work.
Every few seconds a quiet, wet sound escaped when my finger slid out and pushed back in.
She flinched as if the noise itself might turn her mother's head.
