She’s tall— taller than most women I go for, but I couldn’t imagine Sierra being any shorter. I like that the top of her head meets my chin when I whisper dirty things in her ear, and that I don’t have to bend down so far to kiss her. Her legs are long, which helps them fit perfectly on my shoulders, her heels able to dig effortlessly into my sides while I’m eating her out. Why the hell would I want to change that? The more I look at her, the more I find myself liking what I see. That thought alone is enough to break the intensity of my stare and force me to take a cautious step back, away
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