Page 58 of The Cruiser
“Maybe.”
In a slow, sultry strip tease, I unwind out of my thong. His eyes transfix on my very slick womanhood, and he breathes hard in and out of his nose. His dick strains, the poor thing needing attention. I bend down and with a gentle glide of my lips, he fists the sheet and his words sound agonized. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Mademoiselle Hillman.”
“Why don’t you lie down on your back?” I suggest.
“You’re not taking the lead,” he counters.
“Let me enjoy the power of being a woman. For thirty seconds.”
He shifts onto his back, not entirely trusting me. I arc one leg over him and sit lightly on his upper thighs. I cup my breasts, tease my nipples, taunt him. Let him bite and suck and lick. Grind on him until lust glazes his eyes and his groans take on a dangerous edge.
Finally he calls it. Two hands on my hips. Stop.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers. “Such a shame I have to destroy you.” He pats my butt. “Up. And move forward.”
On both knees, I inch my way higher until I’m hovering over that luscious mouth of his. He stacks a pillow under his head, readying himself. Hands back on my hips, he positions me and shifts me lower.
A ball of anticipation channels into the pit of my stomach.
As if pre-apologizing for the pending carnal destruction, he plants the sweetest kiss onto my most personal set of lips.
“You better hold on to the bed frame.”
