“Don’t talk to me like that,” she said, not appreciating the lewd hue of his voice.
But when she slapped a hand onto his chest, she was reminded of their encounter. Instead of drawing her hand away after the slap, she kept it there and pushed into him again, curling the tips of her fingers to drag her nails over the fabric of his tee shirt.
“I could tell you were the naughty type from the minute I saw you,” he said.
Lifting one arm from his chest, he extended a finger and used the single digit to push her hair back from her shoulder, exposing her breast, reminding her of her nakedness.
The thump of arousal began to build until her skin pulsed. “Is that why we had s*x?” she asked, still obsessed with the act of driving her fingernails into him.
“We had s*x because we wanted to have s*x
