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"You're hard," I groan.
His nod is heavy.
"You're… you're so fucking hard."
He brings his hands to my ass to pull my body against his.
He's hard, under me.
His cock is rubbing against my clit. Against my sex.
His damn jeans are in the way.
Still.
That's Mal.
Hard.
For me.
A man can want me.
And not any man.
A sex god like Mal.
I grind my crotch against his. I soak up every delicious bit of friction.
He pushes my straps off my shoulders. The right. Then the left. He looks up at me as he reaches around to unhook my bra.
His pupils dilate as he peels off my bra. "Fucking beautiful."
My body is in overdrive. Every part of me is humming with anticipation.
He pulls my dress over my head and tosses it on the floor. His hands go to my waist. They slide up my sides. Over my chest.
He cups my breasts.
Slowly, his thumbs brush my nipples. It's an impossibly soft touch.
"More," I groan.
His next touch is harder, but it's still too soft.
The next one too.
The next.
Fuck. Each brush of his thumb sends pangs of desire to my sex.
I grind against him, but it's not enough. I need this fabric gone.
It's been too long.
I need his cock inside me.
I stare back into his eyes. "Mal…"
