25
Emma
I lean into the kiss before I am even certain what is happening. His hand cups my chin and controls my head. With my head lifted towards him, his lips are on mine. I can taste nothing but the flavor of him, clean and masculine and raw.
When his tongue slips between my lips, I let out a moan, meeting it with my own. My back arches, my chest press up against him. He explores the stretch of silky skin at my hip, and slowly moves lower, lower. He drags out every moment, an exquisite torture.
I slide his jacket off his shoulders hungrily while he grabs my thigh and drapes it across his lap, leaving me exposed. His hand travels up toward my center, kneading and squeezing my thigh as he goes.
When his fingers brush my core, he finds me already wet.
“This?” he says, his voice gone to
