5
Emma
I look down at his hand, my breath catching, my heart a series of explosions in my chest. Did he really just do that? It’s a silly question. His hand is down there, pressing against my panties. His middle finger presses the hardest; I feel it against my c**t. I look up from his hand into his face. It’s solid, his expression impossible to believe.
Then I reach down and grab his wrist. I think I’m going to move it away—that’s my intent, anyway—but then I just hold it, neither pushing it away nor pulling it toward me.
He continues to stare at me, the same way he stared at me in the restaurant. His blue eyes . . . the eyes of a deadly predator. I am in his clutches, I realize. My p***y gets hot, wet, and tingles of pleasure move up from my c**t into my belly, warming me up.
“You wa
