Stretched out across his legs on the couch, tangled panties down around her thighs, her bare ass feeling the cool bite of the night air, tits resting against his knees, hair pooling down around her face, she can’t fight the delicious squirm that comes cascading down across her body. The shiver leaves behind a trail of goosebumps that crosses her arms, slithers down her neck to her tits and marks her nipples.
Suddenly she’s aware of everything – the way her tits are pressed against his knee, the way the chill in the air is doing something to her nipples. How she wants to grind them into him, drag them along his knees — just to shake off the shiver she still feels slinking across her body.
That same shiver reaches her ass, skims along the inside of her thighs.
An involuntary twitch wracks her body, knocks a sound from her wet lips, a sound somewhere between a giggle and a whimper.
She wants to reach back and touch her clit, can feel the impulse, the urge, clawing at her mind, but she can’t do a single damn thing about it — her hands are stretched out ahead of her, held together by his.
It hits her then – she’s moving, she’s rocking her hips, she’s . . . humping his leg.
Like an animal, like a wild animal, he thinks as he traces the edges of her ass.
‘You’re an eager little thing, aren’t you?’ The sight of her grinding into him splits his mind into pieces. He swallows, feeling the tightness in his throat, fights the urge to flip her over onto her knees so he can slip into her pretty little pussy from behind — but he wants to torment her some more.
Her cheeks positively burn hearing his words – but she can’t stop grinding into him. She wants this, needs this. With each thrust, she draws out the slither of pleasure that agonisingly runs its course along her slit.
‘Well, I tell you what. You’re going to count every single smack aloud for me, do you hear? Every. Single. Smack.’
His voice takes on an edge that makes her heart kick into overdrive.
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Good girl. Let’s begin, then.’
