Close to touch her
The ghost’s hand pressed harder between her hips.
Mira’s soft little moans turned sharper.
“Ahh… nnh… fuck—”
His large transparent palm rubbed firm circles right over her pubic mound through the thin silk. The fabric was already damp and clinging. He could feel how hot she was getting underneath. Every slow grind of his hand made her hips twitch. She tried to stay still. Failed.
“Mmh… ahh…”
Her thighs glowed under the moonlight. He dragged his other hand up the outer side of one, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave faint marks, then down again to her knee. He gripped the knee, thumb stroking the sensitive skin, before moving to the other thigh and doing the same. Never the inner sides. Just the outer curves, the warm glowing skin, the way her legs shifted restlessly every time he squeezed.
Mira’s breathing was getting messy.
“Haah… nnh… please…”
The ghost leaned down and sucked another dark hickey onto the side of her neck while his hand kept working between her legs. He bit down just enough to make her gasp, then licked over the fresh mark. His mouth moved lower, kissing and sucking along her shoulder, leaving more red spots. At the same time his palm never stopped grinding against her pubic area — slow, heavy, relentless.
Her huge breasts rose and fell with every shaky breath. The hickeys near her nipples stood out dark against her flushed skin. He reached up with his free hand, grabbed one heavy tit, and squeezed hard while his thumb flicked the stiff nipple. Mira whimpered, back arching.
“Ahh—! Mmh…”
He pinched the nipple, rolled it, then squeezed her breast again like he owned it. His other hand kept rubbing her through the silk, pressing deeper now, feeling how wet the fabric had become right over her pussy. He still didn’t go under the sheet. He just worked her through it, firm and steady, while his mouth left another wet hickey low on her neck.
Mira’s thighs trembled.
“Nnh… ahh… shit…”
Small, broken moans kept spilling out of her. Her hands were clenched in the sheets. Her hips kept lifting, chasing the pressure of his palm even while her face burned with how easily she was giving in.
The ghost’s transparent mouth brushed her ear. His voice was low, rough, almost amused.
“Already this wet… and I’ve barely started.”
His hand pressed down harder right over her pubic mound, rubbing in tight circles, while the other kept roaming her glowing outer thighs and knees — squeezing, stroking, claiming every inch of soft skin he could reach.
Mira’s next moan came out louder.
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