The bedroom door latched with a soft click.
Madison rose from the edge of the bed like a dark incarnation of desire incarnate—a vision carved by ancient hands for worship alone. The sheer robe clung to her shoulders, black lace lingerie beneath whispering promises only the wicked could decipher.
Hips flared from a waist so narrow it seemed sculpted by divine envy, the robe's high slit parting to reveal long, toned legs that glowed with the warmth of living marble in the dim light.
Breasts—full, heavy, lifted by the lace's engineered cups—strained against the fragile fabric, nipples hard, pebbled shadows pressing insistently against the sheer silk, demanding attention.
She was this hot and just eighteen!
Below, a thong so sheer it vanished between plump ass cheeks, the lace band biting into the soft swell of her hips.
