Third Person's POV
The memories returned again and again, and each time, they were more vivid than the last.
Her mind traced the paths where his hands had touched her, the rough pull that had stripped away her top, the firm grip of his palms on her breasts, the way his fingers had kneaded her flesh until she had moaned.
Her lips tingled as she remembered the pressure of his mouth on hers, the invasive yet addictive slide of his tongue, and the way he had sucked on her saliva as if it were nectar.
Unknowingly, her hands began to move on their own.
She started fondling her breasts slowly, almost absently, her fingers pressing into the soft mounds through the thin, damp fabric of her clothes.
She replayed those moments again and again—the way he had sucked her breasts with his mouth, the way he had teased her pink nipple with his tongue, and had circled and circled until she thought she might go mad.
