Page 106 of Fish out of Water
Bold enough to do more than touch.
I barely pinched, adding in a little twist for good measure.
“I feel like you might be trying to stack the deck against me, Jules.” Grant’s voice was a little rougher.
“This won’t be a very fun activity if I’m not allowed to touch you.” I didn’t come all this way to end up exactly where my parents thought I should be.
Flat on my back counting the seconds.
“I fully plan to participate, so you’re going to have to get used to it.” I pinched his other nipple, this time using a little more force.
His dick twitched where it was pressed tight to my body and knowing I could make him react sent a surge of something coursing through my veins. “Oh.”
“No. Notoh.” Grant pushed my hands away.
“Why not?” I hooked one leg around the back of his. “You get to do it to me.” If he didn’t want me to do that then I could find something else to occupy my hands.
“I feel like you’re about to be a pain in the ass.”
I managed to get my hands on the waistband of his pants. “That’s probably always true.”
It was something I’d learned to be proud of.
My inability to do anything simply because that’s how someone said it had to be.
I did what I believed was right.
What I believed was fair.
And letting Grant do to me what I didn’t get to do to him was not fair or right.
Or fun.
I wanted to touch and be touched. To taste and be tasted.
To fuck and be fucked.
I flipped open the button of his fly and raked down the zipper. The second my hand wrapped around him Grant’s forehead dropped to my shoulder. “Christ, Jules.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”
He barked out a laugh that cut off and turned to a groan when I fisted down the hot, hard length of his dick.
Unfortunately I didn’t get a second stroke in before he was pulling away from me, his body lifting from mine as he worked to a sitting position.
But I was ready for it. As he moved I followed right after him, landing squarely on his lap, legs spread, one knee on each side of his thighs, dress a tangled mess.
Might as well get rid of it.
I grabbed as much of the skirt as I could manage and lifted, dragging it up my body. The stretch of the fabric meant there was no zipper so it was comfortable as hell.
And easy to get off.
“Christ.” Grant’s favorite swear came out as a whisper this time while his eyes locked on my tits, holding a second before dropping to the zebra-print panties still between us. “Those fucking panties are going to kill me, Jules.” He traced the line of my pussy with one finger. “I get why someone would steal them.” His finger hooked into the side, working under the fabric. “Especially once you’ve worn them.” The slide of his touch raked across my clit. “I’m taking these to work with me tomorrow. Keeping them in my pocket all day so I can smell your sweet pussy whenever I want.”
And just like that a man wanting my panties was hot.
But only if it was Grant who wanted them.
