Page 62 of Fluke
She bends over, giving me a clear shot of her cleavage as she lifts the edge of her dress. Slowly, inch by inch, she moves the fabric up her body.
My mouth goes dry.
It’s like watching a present being unwrapped right before your eyes.
Thick thighs that touch just below her shaved pussy.
My God.
I groan, shifting in my seat to keep from coming in my fucking pants.
Her hips are soft and round before dipping in at her waist. Heavy, teardrop-shaped breasts are covered by burgundy lace with straps over her smooth shoulders. The material comes over her head, and then she tosses it at me.
“Damn, Dream Girl,” I say, taking her in. “Spin around.”
“What?”
“Let me see you. Turn. Let me see what I get to play with.”
Her cheeks pink as she makes a slow circle for my enjoyment.
“Do you have any idea how fucking perfect you are?” I ask as she faces me again.
“I’m glad you like it.”
I blow out a breath. “Take off your bra.”
She holds my gaze, her eyes fiery as she unclasps the back and then lets the lace fall forward.
“Drop it,” I say.
It lands unceremoniously on the floor.
I hop off the stool and stalk across the lanai. I grab her jaw and bring it to my face.
“Now you’re getting somewhere,” she says, challenging me with a look.
I don’t know if itisthe challenge, or that I’m finally touching her, or that my body is coursing with so much testosterone and adrenaline that I can’t think anymore, but I capture her mouth with mine.
She moans, threading her fingers through my hair and urging me to kiss her harder. Move my tongue deeper.
I move my other hand to her face and hold her with both hands. Her mouth is hot and wet. It sends a shot of energy straight to my cock. I bite her bottom lip just sharp enough to make her gasp.
Damn.
I pull back as her eyes fly open. She pants,flushed, as she tries to gather herself.
But I don’t give her time.
I slip her panties out of my pocket and walk to the bar. “Come here.”
She joins me as I move the barstools out of the way. Then I turn to her and lift her by the waist, setting her on the bar.
“Give me your hands.”
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