18

But then his hands were inching lower, down into the crease

between my cheeks. “No knickers,” he said in a hiss. “You are as

much of a bad girl as you are a good one, aren’t you, Audrey?”

Really, it had been about pantylines. Tight leggings show

everything, and I wasn’t fond of thongs.

But before I could respond, he dug his fingers into my flesh and

pulled me forward, bringing his knee up tight against my pussy at the

same time. The increase in friction took the buzz from mono to

stereo. I put my hands flat against the wall behind me for support as

my mouth parted in a desperate sigh.

There were more murmurs from Dylan, more sighs from me, and

then he was pulling my leggings down to my thighs, exposing the

recently trimmed (thank heavens) patch of hair above my naughty

bits, to borrow the British term. I spread my legs farther,

unabashedly. Showing him. Begging him.

And somehow he knew.

Because his fingers found his way between my pussy lips, and

with expertise, he strummed my skin, h