She stares for an age at the screen, barely able to see through the passion blurring her vision, barely able to comprehend the desire she provokes in such a man.
Yet, the proof is there before her. The proof of his desperation, his yearning, the ache that crawls under his skin.
She blinks over and again, her chest rapidly rising and falling, her breath catching in her throat, her slick cunt slamming against the denim between her legs.
And although she realises the gesture an imitation, she too cannot control the impulse to merge her flesh with his, to extend her touch to the electronic body, caressing the large, strong hand reaching out in a futile attempt to feel her own absent form.