She reached for the black cotton garment lying on the bed and pulled the tiny thing over her hips, tugging it into the delta. A glance at him ... her face alive with the thrill of risking.
Then, her dress lying across a chair, an ephemeral aqua color with spaghetti straps. A shudder ran through him when she settled it in place with a shimmie, having donned nothing else under. A few runs of a brush through her hair, stockings that stayed up by themselves, and black pumps ... she was put together, a ripe package with a delicious liquid center.
"I'll be just like this all evening," she said. "Aware of ... inside."
Stunning. He managed to escalate. "Every once in a while, look at me a certain way. Show me you're feeling it, right then. Squeezing."
Watching her expression, his chest filled with the thrill of her unashamed daring. This is how you want it, the echo of a female screaming with sexual joy in your ears, your own libido drained out, its juice soaking the womb of your mate.
"Let's go. I hope you're hungry, this dinner is going to be fine."
Her smile blossomed. "As long as there's chocolate at the end."
what made her scream?
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