AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m sure Mac can feel the heat between my legs, even through the multitude of layers that separate us. And when he lowers his lips to my breast, I close my eyes and tangle my fingers in his hair, wild with need for him. I’m rocking my hips against him, arching my back to crush my breast into his mouth, clawing at him. I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so damn turned on.
And when he growls low at the back of his throat, palming my neglected breast as his teeth run over my other nipple, I let out an answering moan.
That’s when Mac moves.
He pulls me off the workbench with a hard tug, catching me against his body. His chest hair is deliciously abrasive against my sensitized skin, but I don’t have time to enjoy it before he’s spinning me around so my back is to his front.
“Hands on the counter.” His voice is harsh, commanding, and it sends fire rushing through my core.
I do as he says, pushing my ass into him as my fingers dig into the raw wood of the workbench.
And that’s when I learn what Mac’s hands can really do.
He unhooks the button of my jeans with a flick of his fingers, sliding his hand inside a moment later. With his fingers over my panties, he finds my bud and starts circling it with steady, confident movements.
A moan slips through my lips as the pleasure ratchets higher inside me. The lacy material of my panties—yes, I changed into my good undies for this—feels beautifully rough against that little bundle of nerves.
“Don’t move, Trina,” Mac says in my ear, banding his other arm across my chest so he can tease my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Keep your hands where they are.”
“I will,” I pant, my eyes glued to the space where his hand disappears beneath my clothing. As if he can sense my frenzy, his movements become firmer, faster. He slides his fingers down the gusset of my panties and grunts when he feels the dampness that has already soaked through. The heel of his palm grinds against me, and I can’t resist the movement of my hips as I ache for more.
So, he gives it to me.
Tugging my panties aside, Mac slides those sinful fingers through the wetness between my legs. “You’re so sweet and wet for me,” he growls in my ear, nipping at my earlobe as his fingers slide along the slickness of my seam.
I don’t even have the capacity to answer beyond a breathy moan. My hips are grinding into him, his hardness an ache against my ass. It somehow feels dirtier to be half-clothed, leaning against his workbench like this. I’m so turned on I can hardly think, let alone move. All I can do is keep my hands where he wants them and my legs spread as he works magic between my legs.
“Mac,” I pant. Or maybe I’m begging.
In response, he takes one finger and slides it inside. I watch the back of his hand moving and his forearm flexing as he works another finger inside me until I finally have to close my eyes.
Here’s a thing about me: I’ve never come from vaginal penetration alone. I sometimes didn’t even enjoy it, really, unless I was incredibly turned on. In the past, I always needed direct clitoral stimulation, or I just resigned myself to not orgasming.
But I’m enjoying this. Maybe it’s Mac’s palm against my clit, sometimes grinding it hard while his fingers plunge inside me, sometimes barely brushing it, or his whole body curved around mine as his fingers thrust inside me. Maybe it’s the soft grunts he makes near my ear, or the feel of his teeth brushing against my shoulder.
Whatever it is, an orgasm starts budding inside me. I drop my chin to my chest, eyes squeezed shut, as pleasure knots deep in my core, slowly building with every movement of Mac’s hand between my legs. I’m trembling, bucking, jerking against him as his name slips from my lips in keening, breathy pants.
“More.” I close my eyes. “Please, Mac. I want more.”
His arm tightens across my chest as his fingers slip out of me, then right back in with an added third. I gasp, widening my stance as my hips grind against his hand. I’m going to come. I’m going to come. I’m going to come I’m going to come I’m going to come—
Then he stops.
I whimper as Mac pulls his hand from my pants, opening my eyes and turning to see him slip his fingers into his mouth. He sucks them clean, letting out a low groan as they slide free.
“Fuck,” he says, one hand still wrapped around my chest. “You taste good, Trina.”
I don’t know what to say. There’s something so intensely erotic about the orgasm he just denied combined with the look of pure lust on his face as he tastes my arousal. I can’t think of anything except the emptiness between my legs.
“I want you.” The words slip through my lips without thought as I spin in his arms, and I watch Mac’s gaze darken. A sinful smile tugs at his lips right before he crushes them to mine in a hard kiss.
“Good,” he says when we break apart for a breath. His hands feel rough when they grip my waist, and he spins me around to face the workbench again. “Hands on the counter.”
This time, when his fingers slip down my pants, he doesn’t hesitate to slide them under my panties. He reaches down to where I’m wettest, then brings his fingers back up to my bud. My fingers dig into the bench as I moan, the pleasure of his touch almost too much to bear.
When his other hand finds my breast again, pinching and tugging and teasing my nipple, I pray he doesn’t stop this time. Pleasure builds and builds inside me, a knot of hot pressure in the pit of my stomach. His hand works magic over my clit until I don’t even know what he’s doing, I just know it feels incredible. Then his other hand yanks my pants down lower, halfway off my hips before moving between my legs. With one hand on my clit, he uses the other to thrust inside me, his whole body curved over mine.
And I explode.
