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His fingers tightened. My breath hitched.
Then he leaned in and took my left nipple in his hot mouth. Pleasure shot through me and a whimper burst from my lips.
My stomach shuddered. My sex felt wet and incredibly sensitive against my panties.
His eyes closed. His lashes were thick and dark. They lay on his tanned cheek like a feather.
My breath came in a long shudder as he sucked gently, flicking his tongue. God, there was nothing that felt like this. It was so intimate, being half naked in his lap, his mouth on my breasts.
Daringly, I slid my hands up and into his hair. He moaned, a dark, sexy noise in his throat. My fingers clenched, my nails digging lightly into his scalp. My hips began working, desperate for something to rub against.
He pressed his mouth against my neck. His hand pushed between my thighs and tugged my loose shorts and panties aside. The tip of his finger traced down the seam of my pussy and my head fell back.
My hips worked harder. He kept his finger hooked on my panties as he shifted his thigh. Giving me something to grind on. His mouth moved over my neck, the rough fabric of his shirt rubbing against my nipples.
He’d stripped all my inhibitions away in a second. He had a way of doing that.
All it took was his touch, his taste, and I was putty in his hands.
“That’s right, princess, grind your pretty pussy on me,” he breathed.
I obeyed, clinging to him. He dragged his hot, open mouth back down to my nipples and sucked them. One after the other. Pleasure sparked deep inside and I felt the familiar tightening of my pussy in response.
Moaning aloud, I ground harder on his thigh.
“Good girl,” he praised. “Ride my thigh, use it until you come.”
My lids fell shut and sparks danced in darkness. The pleasure felt tight and hot and so frustrating I couldn’t keep from whimpering. My thighs shuddered. I ground harder, finding the perfect spot and doubling down.
His tongue flicked my right breast.
“So fucking wet,” he panted.
He could feel me through his pants. Soaking right down to his bare skin. The thought sent me over the edge. My spine snapped back and I cried out as pleasure erupted between my thighs. My nails pierced him. My hips shuddered and twisted, grinding my orgasm out onto him.
Greedy and reveling in every sensation.
“That’s my girl,” he said.
I didn’t have the presence of mind to tell him I wasn’t his girl. I was too busy shaking from how good it had felt to get myself off on his thigh.
“Fuck, I’m hard,” he groaned.
I was high on the euphoria of orgasm. My shame still hadn’t hit me.
“Let me fix it,” I panted, squirming from his lap and falling to my knees.
His eyes widened. “You like that, don’t you?”
“It feels good,” I admitted. “You taste good.”
“Far be it from me to refuse you,” he said, fumbling to undo his belt.
His cock sprang out, leaking and rock hard. Not wasting time, I spat into my hand and wrapped it around the base. He gathered my hair and held me bent over his lap. My tongue darted out, wetting my lips.
Then his warm, hard cock was sliding into my mouth. Filling it with his taste and the pulse of blood in the veins running up the delicate underside. My lids fluttered, my eyes rolling back.
Oh God, I had no shame. No dignity.
