Page 103 of The Playboy

Just like my hand was.

I wasn’t just slamming my finger into her pussy. I was turning my wrist. I was aiming the tip toward her G-spot. I was giving her clit the pressure she needed to get off.

And she was close.

I heard it in each breath.

Every moan.

I felt it from the buck of her hips as she met my finger, rocking against it, sliding back and shoving back in.

The whole time, her eyes were locked with mine.

Her lips stayed parted.

Her nose flaring as she inhaled.

And the jet was going faster, the landscape of Honolulu passing by the windows—if I were looking through them.

But I wouldn’t dare.

Because I wouldn’t miss this moment.

Not when I was fucking dying to watch her come.

And from what I could tell, she was seconds away from that happening.

I pressed down on her clit, pushing it from side to side, while I added a second finger. She didn’t have to beg for it. Her reactions were doing that for her.

The panting.

The gasping.

The way she was moaning, “Macon,” every time she released the air in her lungs.

As she began to close in around me, her wetness thickening, I kept my finger all the way in and twisted it upward, brushing the tip against that spot.

It took only two grazes before the plane was rising in the air and Brooklyn’s stomach was shuddering.

“Fuck!” Ripples pounded across her. “Yes!”

I kept up the grind, rotating around that sensitive place, milling across it.

And as we got higher, the wheels pulling back, the rush of sensations floating past us as we climbed toward the clouds, waves of pleasure spread across her.

They hit her lips as they curled. Her eyes as they closed. Her skin as it reddened.

And my dick fucking chaffed across my boxer briefs, yearning for the pressure of her hand, mouth, pussy—anything that would alleviate the cum inside me.

“Macon!” she hissed for the last time, her body slowing, her stomach stilling.

Until she was looking at me, trying to catch her breath.

I gently pulled out, my thumb leaving her clit, and I held those same fingers in front of her. “Taste yourself.”

She hesitated as she gazed at my fingers and then carefully took the wet tip into her mouth, flicking her tongue across it before her lips left my skin.

“Do you taste that sweetness?”

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