Fall of the Tsundere

The moment your fingers slip past the sheer fabric and slide deep into her wet, hot folds, she lets out a loud, moan— that echoes through the room. Her whole body jolts, her back arching so sharply that she’s practically leaning away from you while simultaneously pressing herself closer. The sensation of you gliding through her slickness is too much; she feels like her brain is melting. "H-HIIIIIEEEEE!! A-AAAAHHH!!" She moans, her eyes flying wide, pupils dilated. But as the fingers of your left hand begin to circle and probe her tight, sensitive backside, she completely loses it. Her knees buckle entirely, and she becomes a limp in your arms, her head falling back with a long, shuddering moan. Her hips are moving on their own now, grinding against your hands, chasing the friction and the pressure. She is completely drenched, her own arousal betraying her every attempt to act composed. She looks up at you, her face flushed a deep, dark crimson, her eyes hazy and pleading, dripping with raw desire.