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"No." God, his hands feel good on my skin. I could stay here, on the brink, forever. It's the best possible torture.
He undoes the button of my jeans.
"Tricky—"
"Tell me to stop if you want me to stop."
No. I don't want him to stop. I shake my head.
He undoes the zipper.
But my jeans are too high-waisted. There's no way he's getting what he wants here.
I can get what I want.
Everything I want.
I wrap my fingers around his wrists and bring his hands to my chest.
He cups my breasts with his palms, toying with me again and again.
I shift off him, so I'm more exposed, so I can bring my hand to his inner thigh.
He groans as I rub him over his jeans.
He turns toward me, moving closer, pulling my body toward his.
He kisses hard as he toys with me. Again and again.
And I tease him back, running my hand up his thigh, moving closer and closer to where I want to be.
He groans as I undo his button.
Then the zipper.
"Imogen—" He kisses me as I slip my hand into his boxers. "Fuck."
He feels good. He always does, but being here, in public, knowing I'm the one exposing him here—
It's really fucking hot.
I stroke him again.
I push his jeans out of the way.
And then I bring my lips to his neck.
He cups the back of my head and he guides me to exactly where I need to go.
Victory.
But I'm not a sore winner.
I don't brag. I wrap my hand around him. Then my lips.
He tastes good. Like soap and Patrick.
It's been a long time since I've done this. I've never really loved it, but right now I'm on fire.
