Riley moves between your legs, her body shifting to position herself over you. She looks down at you for a moment, her expression almost reverent, before she slowly slides her body into place, her pelvis fitting against yours like puzzle pieces.

Her gaze locks with yours, sharp and intense, as she leans in close—close enough that your soft breasts brush together, the contact sending a jolt through your chest. Her skin is warm, smooth where it presses to yours, and she smells faintly of ink, sweat, and something sweet that clings to her collarbone. One of her strong hands settles on your hip, her fingers splayed wide, while the other cups the side of your face, thumb gently brushing your cheek like you’re something precious.

“You good, baby?” she asks, voice low and husky, that rasp of hers sinking deep into your belly. Her thumb traces the corner of your mouth