erotic calves could be. Or knees. My thighs are trembling.
Adley pushes my thighs gently apart. She positions one
foot flat on the bed, bending the knee. I’m so turned on, so
overheated, so desperate, that I know I’m soaking wet.
Embarrassingly wet. My panties aren’t sexy either. They’re
just plain white cotton. I wish I would have worn lace. Adley
wore lace. I’m sure she has a matching set on underneath her
jeans.
“You’re getting tense,” Adley whispers. She runs her
lips over my stomach, over my hip bones, while her fingers
trail gently over the waistband of my panties. “Do you not
want this?”
“I want it,” I gasp, my voice thick and syrupy. “Sorry. I
was just thinking that I…that I should have worn something
sexier.”
Adley looks at me incredulously. Her eyes are heavy,
her pupils huge, her lips swollen and pink, her hair all over the
place, her skin bathed in the light of the golden wall sconce
above the bed. She looks like a goddess. She is a goddess.
“Are you kidding me? Sexier? You couldn’t be sexier.
You’re highly underestimating the allure of white cotton.” She
hooks her fingers under the waistband of my panties and drags
them slowly down my legs. She tosses them to the floor with a
dramatized flourish. “Or the allure of seeing them off.”
I’m so wet that I can feel a damp trail on my legs
where my panties skimmed over. I’m so aroused, I can
actually smell myself. Maybe that’s not sexy either. Maybe
that shouldn’t happen. Maybe…
“I’ve thought about tasting you all week.” Adley bends
her head and inhales my scent, and that both worries me and