My sex is aching.
His fingertips skim the backs of my thighs. The curve of my ass.
He plants one hand on my lower back, holding me in place.
But he's not touching me properly yet.
I squirm.
I shake.
I bite my tongue to keep from whining.
"Fucking beautiful, Lacey." His fingertips skim my inner thigh.
Higher.
Higher.
Almost.
There.
In one swift motion, Mal slides a finger inside me. Then another. A third.
I'm dripping wet, but he's still stretching the limits of what I can take. He pushes deeper. Deeper. Deep enough it hurts.
He pulls out enough to do it again.
Again.
Fuck, that feels good.
I feel full. Whole.
Then his thumb brushes against my clit and a wave of pleasure spreads out through my body.
"Mal," I breathe.
"You want more, baby?"
My yes barely registers as a word, but he must understand. His touch gets harder.
Faster.
He fucks me with his fingers.
He rubs me with his thumb.
My sex clenches.
I'm close.
I rock my hips to meet his hands. I shake. I squirm. I groan incomprehensible things.
"Mal… Fuck… Don't stop."
His response is a low, deep groan. He presses down on my back just enough to remind me of the prize waiting in his jeans.