SLY GRIN

“Impatient, are we?”

I groan and roll my hips against his erection again.

“Damn right, I am. Now, are you going to leave this lady hanging, or will you make sure she finishes this with a smile on her face?”

Micheal’s response is to kiss me hard, and we fall onto the couch. His hands push up my dress, sliding under my panties while I unbutton his shirt. I stutter and fumble with a button when his fingers brush over my clit, but I keep going. I yank his shirt out of his pants, only to realize he still has his jacket on. But I don’t want his hand to leave me, not when it’s touching me in a way that’s making my arousal tighten in my stomach.

Micheal seems to notice what I need, and his hand leaves me as he gets onto his knees. I start to protest, only for that to fade away when he takes off both his jacket and shirt, tossing them onto the floor. I lick my lips as I look over his firm-looking body, seeing the dusting of hair on his chest that trickles down his belly and into the waistband