Rosie whimpers softly, sweetly, chasing the instinct to bear down on Sabrina's thigh when it's pressed between her legs. The pressure of it is perfect, more so when layered with the hot suction of Sabrina's mouth on her breasts and the sweep of her tongue across one nipple. "Oh," she says, more noise than word as she arches into the feeling, her hips grinding down against the flat of Sabrina's thigh.

She could stay just like that, happily squirming and desperate, her head spinning at the edge of roughness Sabrina's already started to employ. But she's said what she wants, knows what she wants, and as Sabrina's hand slips downwards, Rosie parts her legs to meet it.