He adds a little pressure, forcing me to take another step forward until my thighs bump into his knees.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks softly, staring up at me as his thumbs trace small circles against the skin of my thighs, his hands not moving from their spot even though I want nothing more than for him to slide them right up and under my dress.
“No. Yes. I don’t know. I’m just not used to all this. I’m not used to someone saying things like that or looking at me like that,” I tell him, my heart practically beating out of my chest when he removes his hands from my thighs, grabs my wrists, and yanks me toward him. I topple forward and have to grab the back of the chair to hold myself up above him.
He pushes his knees against my thighs and I take a step out with each foot to make room for him between my legs. I’m still bent over at the waist above him, with a death grip on the back of the chair.
“Like what? Like that small taste of you I got in the middle of your front yard wasn’t even close to being enough, and I want more? Like I can’t stop thinking about the way your body moved when you gave me that lap dance, and I’ve jerked off to the memory more times than I care to admit? Like watching you come out of your shell and seeing you take charge of your life is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen? Well, get used to it. It’s appalling no one ever looked at you like this before or said things like this to you before,” he says, grabbing my hips and pulling me roughly down onto his lap.
It’s all I can do not to purr like a kitten when I feel his hard-on pressing against me, with nothing but the thin nylon material of his shorts and the lace of my thong separating us. He lets go of my hips and moves his hands up between us to cup my cheeks.
“Is this okay?” he asks quietly, flexing his hips and pushing up harder against me until my eyes almost roll into the back of my head.
I nod my head instead of answering him verbally, afraid I’ll ruin the moment by whining, crying, stomping my foot and screaming that it’s more than okay, and if one of us doesn’t start moving soon, I might pick up the closest chair and chuck it across the room.
“See that remote on the table next to us? Grab it, and hit the big button in the middle.”
With my eyes locked on his, I reach one of my arms out blindly for the remote, pressing whatever buttons I can feel until I finally hit the right one. The sound of a piano suddenly fills the room, the slow beat of drums joins in a few seconds later, and then a man starts crooning through the sound system. The song instantly amplifies everything I’m feeling. It’s slow and sexy and makes it impossible for me to just sit still on PJ’s lap when there is an erection between my thighs begging for me to rub all up on it.
“It’s called “Bloodstream” by Stateless,” he says, telling me the name of the song before I even have a chance to ask. “Don’t think. Just listen to the music and move.”
He lets out a small groan when I do what he says, rolling my hips and sliding myself against his hardness.
“Is this part of my lesson?” I whisper, the way he’s looking up at me with hooded eyes giving me the confidence to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me.
He sits up in the chair, dropping one of his hands from my face to wrap it around my body as I continue to grind myself against him to the beat of the music, the feel of him so hard and hot between my legs that I know nothing could tear me off of his lap right now even if the room was on fire.
This damn building could go up in flames right along with my vagina and I wouldn’t even care.
His hand on my cheek moves to the back of my neck and he tugs my face closer to his until my lips are hovering right over his.
“You definitely don’t need a lesson in this. Fucking hell, you feel so good. Better than my dreams,” he mutters against my mouth.
My thighs tighten on either side of his and I press myself down harder on him, swiveling my hips and moaning when he thrusts himself up against me, hitting a spot that makes me see stars.
All of the blood in my body rushes between my legs as I grind myself against him. I almost forgot what this feels like, the pulse of need, the tingle of desire, everything around you fading away until all you can think about and all you want is an orgasm and that blissful relief from the ache. I should probably apologize to him that this is going to be over before it even starts because three years is a long damn time to wait for something like this. Right now, it feels like my body is a live wire and my orgasm is on a hair trigger that I’m assuming a strong gust of wind could detonate right about now. Or a strong gust of PJ’s dick rubbing against my vagina.