Right now, Mika was utterly lost, completely consumed by the softness, warmth, and heft of Fauna's breasts in his hands.
It was as if the entire world had shrunk down to just this moment, just this touch, and nothing else existed.
He squeezed them slowly and firmly, letting the flesh mold around his fingers; he cupped and lifted them, holding the weight as if it was his life's calling to keep them from falling.
His hands moved with relentless purpose when it came to her nipples as well: pinching and twirling them, sometimes rolling them gently between his fingers, sometimes pulling at them until they stretched, only to let them go and watch them bounce back with a mesmerizing jiggle.
Every motion was worshipful and greedy, as though all the years of longing and every ounce of restraint he'd ever known was being poured into the art of groping Fauna's breasts now.
