17
Peter
I restrain myself long enough to get us home, though each time Sara shifts in her seat and I catch a glimpse of her bare thigh under that flirty white skirt, I’m tempted to pull off the road.
The only thing that stops me is that I don’t want another quickie in the car. I need her in my bed, where I can feast on her delicious body all night long. Where I can show her that she’ll always be mine, no matter how many men salivate over her.
It helps that she’s talking nonstop, still riding the high from her performance. She’s telling me all about how Phil’s guitar needed a last-minute tune-up and how Simon almost didn’t make it because he has an article deadline. Focusing on her words keeps me from reaching under her skirt and trailing my hand up her smooth, shapely thigh before del
