She didn't answer with words.
She didn't have to.
The evidence was written all over her body in vivid, humiliating, gloriously explicitdetail.
A deep, rosy flush had bloomed across the soft upper swells of her breasts and climbed slowly up her throat, turning her fair skin a warm, telling pink.
Her breathing had grown shallow and quick, each inhale making her generous, heavy breasts rise and fall noticeably beneath the thin cream silk, the lush curves trembling slightly with every unsteady breath.
Her nipples — once dormant for so long — had stiffened into tight, aching peaks that poked brazenly against the delicate fabric, so sensitive now that even the soft slide of silk with each breath sent little jolts of pleasure straight to her core.
