She was so fucking wet, and it was like my touch was sending sparks along her body. She twitched and bowed. I half-expected her to purr with satisfaction. It was so hot, I began to sweat and reached for my drink.
The oaky bourbon slid down my throat, and I took a knee beside her hip. She was trembling, and worry stopped my heart. Oh, shit, had I been too harsh? Had I fucked this up? “You okay?”
Her head hung down until her chin was buried in her chest, and her long curtain of hair draped to the floor. “Yes. God, yes. I don’t know why I’m shaking.”
Relief poured through me, followed by a strange sensation. Not warmth, or strength, and it took a long moment to place. It was power.
And it felt really fucking good.
She was a vision like this. Sex on display. Waiting for me.
There was a flinch when I set my glass on the flat spot of her lower back, directly centered between her hips.
“Oh shit, that’s cold!”
“Quiet. That bottle of bourbon was expensive,” I said. “I’m trusting you to stay still as I do this, and not waste any of it.”
She seemed to solidify, eager to meet my challenge.
I anchored myself by putting my left hand on her hip. “Are you ready?”