Molly
He trails his mouth to my neck, sucking at a spot that sends electricity straight through me…then pulls back. The sudden loss makes my breath stutter harder than the contact ever did.
I’m still sitting on his lap. Still trapped there. Still painfully aware of how little control I have.
His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles over my panties, already soaked, like he knows exactly how close I am and refuses to care. Every second feels measured. Counted.
“So good,” I whisper, tugging at him, trying to close the distance.
He exhales softly, almost amused. Almost bored.
“Is it?” he asks.
His pace doesn’t change. He shifts my panties aside and slides a finger in, unhurried, controlled…like he’s setting rules I don’t get to argue with.
Soft cries slip from my lips. He’s going
