Page 63 of Changing Tides

I lift my arms, and he takes the garment and tosses it to the floor. I’m standing before him in nothing but my lacy nude bra and panties.

He snakes his right arm around my abdomen, brings his fingers between my breasts, and nimbly flicks the clasp loose. The silky fabric separates, and my creamy mounds bounce free. Gooseflesh pricks at my nipples to form hard pink peaks as the cool air hits them.

“Fuck,” he mutters as his hand takes the weight of my right breast.

I arch back against his chest as he squeezes and kneads the sensitive flesh. I can feel his cock growing hard against his zipper and pressing into my back, and I feed my arm around so I cup him.

His hips move away from my touch.

“Uh-uh. No, you don’t,” he rasps, and I bring my confused eyes to his in the mirror.

His hand leaves my chest, and he grasps both of my wrists and leans me forward. He places my palms on the wood.

“Grab hold,” he demands.

Confused, I clutch the edge of the dresser.

“Don’t let go,” he says before releasing me, grabbing my hips, and yanking them back slightly.

“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.

He takes hold of my hair and sweeps it behind my shoulder, and his mouth comes to my ear.

“Punishing you,” he utters before he bites down on my earlobe, causing my head to loll to one side.

“For what?”

“For leaving me that night. I woke up with my cock as hard as granite and reached for you, and you were gone without so much as a word.”

I start to defend my actions, but the words fly from my head as his fingers trail, whisper light, between my thighs and find my panties.

He cups my sex, and I can feel the hot liquid escaping as he massages me with the palm of his hand.

Damn, that feels good.

I relax down on his wrist and whimper.

“You’re so fucking wet, Doc. Is all this for me?” he asks as his hand slides back, and his fingers skim over the soaked silk and lace.

“Yes,” I moan as he circles and then pinches my clit.

He takes a step back and clenches the sides of my panties, yanking them down.

I glance down between my legs at my discarded underwear.

“Avie, look at me,” he orders.

My gaze flutters up to his in the mirror before I attempt to look away. Feeling way too exposed.

He grips my chin.

“Look at me,” he says again.

I focus on his stare as he gently wedges a knee between my legs to widen my stance.

“I want to see if the blush on your cheeks matches the color of your sweet little pussy,” he whispers.

My knees go weak. I have to grip the wood harder to keep myself upright.

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