I dropped to my knees right there on the balcony, the cool stone biting sharp into my skin like a reminder of the cold world outside this heated sin.
My hands slid up her thighs—strong, possessive fingers tracing the impossibly smooth, silken skin of my aunt's legs, the flesh so soft it felt like warm velvet under my palms, yielding gently to every press of my fingertips as they trembled beneath my touch.
The warmth hit me first—radiating from her body like a forbidden furnace, the intimate heat of the woman who had helped raise me, whose skin I had never been allowed to touch like this, now burning against mine in sinful invitation.
I pushed the dress higher, inch by torturous inch, until it bunched at her waist like a surrendered flag, exposing the sacred curves of my aunt's hips, the soft, familiar-yet-taboo expanse of her lower belly now quivering under my hands with raw, aching need.
