KARIMA HEART
He started going slower, the sound of skin to skin echoing through the room, his hand sliding up to my breast again, pressing harder than the last.
I could feel the rush of adrenaline, I knew I was just this close and—just like he noticed—he pulled out, standing quickly to his feet.
My knees almost buckled from kneeling for so long, from the pressing, from everything.
He didn’t say a word. He just grabbed me by the arm, like a teacher hauling a toddler off to the disciplinary office. Only this wasn’t discipline. Maybe it was punishment. A sweet, wicked punishment.
Jesus, Karima. You’re really out of your mind at this rate.
He propped my leg on the seat beside the dresser, holding me in place, and the whole time he never let my eyes stray from his. My chest beat ten times
