mouth slanted, kiss deep, filthy, wet.
“Sweetheart… you’re killin’ me.
“I’m hard as hell right now.”
He breathes into my mouth. “I can’t hide this.”
He hooks my panties with one finger,
then pulls them aside, exposing my pussy.
His eyes drop down to look,
breath pulling heavy, then heavier.
He sucks his thumb,
then finds my clit and drags it in a circle.
“Fuckin’ sexy,” he says under his breath,
catching the backside of my thigh,
knee sliding, nudging me open wider.
Hand on my hip, he leans back to watch me grind slow into his thigh. “This is unreal. Like—what the fuck.Look at you.”
His hand slides up my thigh, my stomach,
grips the band of my panties,
eyes drowning in the view.
“How’d you even end up here? With me?”
Courtesy of four shots of vodka. Maybe five.
It’s working. (I’m lying.)
I’m in this. (I'm not.)
I’m not even imagining Andrew, who’s probably doing this exact same thing with someone else, watching another pussy grind against his thigh,
wanting it,
breathing hard,
getting hard,
whispering sickening words,
his body all hers for the night.
My head tips back against the shelf,
my eyes closing.
This is the part when I vanish.
