I was doing everything in my power to get her home safely, but the fact that her hands wouldn’t stay wrapped around my waist—choosing instead to roam, to explore, to tease—made it a hell of a lot harder.
My focus was on the road, of course, but that didn’t stop me from feeling her every movement. The way her fingertips trailed up my thigh, featherlight, barely-there, sending heat rolling through my blood. The way her palm pressed against my crotch, firm and unashamed. The way she grabbed hold of me, her fingers squeezing as if she needed proof that I was real, as if she was making sure I was solid.
She was hungry, and she wasn’t going to be satisfied until I f****d her.
Never in my life had I been sucked off by a woman only for her to demand that I f**k her immediately after. And f**k,
