Marina began to grope his chest with both hands, molding the smooth... non-existent breasts beneath her palms.
Her fingers rubbed and played with his pink nipples, using every technique she had just learned from his earlier handling of her own breasts—pinching, rolling, tugging gently, then pressing her palms flat to massage the surrounding area.
Her touch was experimental but earnest, her emerald eyes focused intently on his reactions as the twilight outside finally gave way to full night.
Benjamin's breath hitched sharply in his throat as he tried to form a coherent protest, his voice emerging in a strained, half-choked whisper.
"I... you idiot!" He attempted to twist away from her grasp, his body shifting restlessly against the soft sheets of her bed, but Marina's hands were relentless, her fingers exploring his chest with an eager curiosity that bordered on overwhelming enthusiasm. "It does not work that way at all! You need to calm down just for a moment, please—!"
