But his reaction is always the same. He draws me closer against him as if to prevent me from stopping.
So, this time, I don’t. I rub one side of his jaw with my cheek before turning to the other side, taking my time with it. And when he buries his hands in my hair, holding me against him, I replace my cheek with my lips.
I inhale the clean scent of his skin as I kiss and nibble at his jaw, gently rocking against his jean-clad hardness until the need for more, the need for him to fill me becomes too much for me to ignore.
I rise to my knees and reach between us to unzip him. He shifts me and I feel him jerking at his jeans, shoving them down and out of the way.
Then I’m grasping him in my hand, stroking the hard length of him because I need to touch him again, need to feel him. His lips
