But then his hands were inching lower, down into the creasebetween my cheeks. “No knickers,” he said in a hiss. “You are asmuch of a bad girl as you are a good one, aren’t you, Audrey?”Really, it had been about pantylines. Tight leggings showeverything, and I wasn’t fond of thongs.But before I could respond, he dug his fingers into my flesh andpulled me forward, bringing his knee up tight against my pussy at thesame time. The increase in friction took the buzz from mono tostereo. I put my hands flat against the wall behind me for support asmy mouth parted in a desperate sigh.There were more murmurs from Dylan, more sighs from me, andthen he was pulling my leggings down to my thighs, exposing therecently trimmed (thank heavens) patch of hair above my naughtybits, 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, andwith expertise, he strummed my skin, h
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