She pushes into her hands to straighten up, and before I can predict her next move, she shifts forward onto her hands and knees and fucking crawls towards me to bring her mouth right up to my ear.
“How ’bout now?” she murmurs.
Her breath is warm on my skin, and I know if I turned my head a few inches, I’d get an excellent view of her tits where the neck of her t-shirt is hanging loose and low.
Instead, I keep my eyes focused on our reflection in the mirrored wall across the room, which doesn’t help much, seeing as it gives me an equally excellent view of her now perfectly positioned ass.
She’s got a great ass. My arms ache to pull her into my lap and get a handful.
“Now you’re just playing dirty,” I answer, my voice hoarse.
“I never said I’d be fair. I just said I’d win.”
Her lips are so close to my ear they almost brush my skin—almost. She’s careful to keep her mouth from touching me, since I’d definitely consider it a forfeit if she kissed me anywhere before one of us begged.
I close my eyes, and I can already taste her again. I’m hungry for her, and she really is going to win if I don’t get the upper hand back soon.
“I can play dirty too.”
Before I lose my nerve, I twist and place my hands on her shoulders, giving her a soft push that sends her scuttling back onto her ass. A half second later, I’m straddling her lap, my skirt riding dangerously high and her face now at eye-level with my chest.
She gasps, and on instinct, her hands fly up to grip my hips hard.
I might have misjudged the effectiveness of my plan; with my thighs wrapped around hers and her mouth now mere inches from my tits, I’m in barely any more control than I was on the floor.
That doesn’t stop me from arching my back and rolling my hips under her hands.
“You ready to beg me?” I ask.
Without any warning, she yanks the edge of my shirt out from where it’s tucked into the waistband of my skirt and slides her hands up to press against the bare skin of my lower back. I arch even more, moaning a little when her hands reach higher and brush the band of my bra.
“Not even close,” she answers, her eyes hooded and dark with need.
I want to keep those eyes on me. I want to keep pushing her. I want her to keep pushing me. I want to see how far we can take this. Every second that passes stretches the tension tighter and tighter, like a bowstring being drawn to its breaking point, and I want to know who will snap first.
I reach for the edge of my shirt and pull it over my head.
Moira groans. “Fuck, Kenzie.”
I hiss when she grabs my waist and squeezes, her nails digging in just hard enough to make white hot sparks pop and fizz behind my eyelids.
Something about her swearing is such a turn on. I’ve always thought of her as some kind of squeaky clean golden girl, but here she is, cursing and bucking her hips under me in the middle of the floor, an abandoned whisky bottle lying beside us.
Moira Murray is being bad, and I want to see how much badder she gets.
She slides one of her hands around to trail her fingertips up my stomach and along the edge of my bra. It’s just a plain nude one with a bit of lace trim, but she’s caressing the soft fabric with a reverence that makes my breath catch. Something in my chest twinges, but I forget all about the sensation and whatever it might mean when she hooks a finger under one of my bra’s cups and tugs down, exposing the edge of my nipple.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp.
Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “Is this okay?”
All I can do is nod, and one corner of her mouth lifts before she goes back to tugging my bra down. She groans when my whole breast is finally on display for her. Electricity surges through me when her thumb starts brushing back and forth over my nipple. I whimper, exerting every ounce of concentration I have left to keep me from pulling her mouth to my skin.
I want to feel her. I want her—maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anybody.
“Moira...”
She chuckles at my breathless voice, but her own comes out cracked and ragged. “You ready to beg yet? If you begged me to suck on your tits, I’d do it right now.”