Exploring Hidden Passion Behind cardi b ass

cardi b ass begins at 3:17 a.m. in a hotel suite. City glow through half-open blinds stripes her restless body. She can’t sleep, so cardi b ass becomes her lullaby. Slow, almost lazy circles over silk panties gradually soak the fabric dark. In cardi b ass, she pushes them aside instead of removing them—impatient, perfect. Two fingers, then three, stretching, curling, until the headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall. When she finally comes in cardi b ass, it’s with a muffled scream into the pillow, whole body shaking so hard the mattress springs sing. Dawn finds her asleep in tangled sheets, panties still twisted to the side—proof that cardi b ass worked better than any sleeping pill.