Playboy Centerfolds - Episode 5

She slips out of the silk robe like it owes her money. The hem slides off her shoulders, catches on her elbows, then falls away completely, leaving nothing between her skin and the soft light bleeding through the curtains. Her nipples tighten in the cool air. She rolls them between her fingertips, watching the way her own touch makes her breath catch, and a slow, knowing smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. The bed is unmade. She crawls onto it on all fours, then lowers until her breasts press into the rumpled sheets. She reaches back with one hand, spreads herself open, and drags two fingers through the wetness that’s already slick between her folds. The sound is filthy and quiet at the same time. She rolls onto her back. One knee falls open. Her free hand moves lower, circles her clit in lazy strokes that turn tighter, faster, until her hips start to lift off the mattress. The other hand stays busy—two fingers pushing inside, pumping in the same rhythm her thumb works above. Her lips part. A small, broken sound escapes. She doesn’t rush. She fucks herself the way she likes it: deep, steady, thumb rubbing firm circles until her thighs start to shake. When she comes, it’s with her back arched and her fingers buried to the last knuckle, pulsing around them while her breath stutters and her toes curl hard into the sheets. After, she lies there with her hand still between her legs, breathing through the aftershocks, eyes half-lidded and dark. The room smells like sex and expensive perfume. She licks her fingers clean, slow and deliberate, like she’s got all night.