He sat on the plush blue velvet bench, watching me with dark, hungry eyes as I leaned in for a slow, teasing kiss. My burgundy lingerie clung to me like sin itself, every strap framing my body just right. His hands traced over my garters, his fingers skimming along the tops of my stockings where lace met bare skin. “So soft,” he murmured, and I smirked, lifting my leg slightly, brushing the inside of my thigh against his aching cock. “Softer than my skin?” I asked, pressing the length of him against that delicate lace, daring him to decide.
I let my fingers wrap around him, stroking slow, deliberate, drawing out every shiver, every whispered curse. When I slid my dress down, his eyes darkened with need. I pressed his cock against my breasts, letting him feel my warmth before wrapping my lips around him. I sucked, licked, let him slide between my breasts, my tongue teasing the sensitive head until he was trembling. But he didn’t want to finish like this. He wanted more. And I was more than willing.
I straddled him, letting him sink into my dripping heat, grinding against him with slow, deep rolls of my hips before riding him harder, chasing that intoxicating climax. My nails raked over his skin, my body arching as pleasure consumed me. When I finally collapsed against him, breathless and shaking, we both knew—this wasn’t just an appointment. This was a night neither of us would forget.
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