The contact made Joan tremble.
Her folds were so wet, so sensitive, that even the teasing strokes made her moan.
Her hips twitched, her thighs flexed, and her hands reached down to grip his biceps as if to anchor herself.
He circled her entrance, rubbing the crown in lazy, deliberate loops that spread her wetness around, coating his tip and making it slick.
He tapped her clit lightly with it, then dragged it down again, slowly parting her lips with the sheer thickness of his shaft.
Joan gasped when the swollen head pressed against her entrance.
She felt it—just the tip—nudging, pushing ever so slightly, but not entering yet.
Her whole body went tense with expectation.
Ross looked into her eyes.
"This is going to be deep. Stretching. But it'll feel amazing. Trust me, Joan."
Joan nodded, eyes wide but determined.
Her breath was shallow, her skin flushed, and her body trembling beneath him.
She was terrified… and yet she had never wanted anything more in her life.
