Which is intensely disappointing.
I grip his wrist, grinding into his hand myself. “I was joking, Alex. Don’t stop.”
“Sorry, I got distracted by the images of otters as ring bearers,” he says.
And here I am with a very hot hockey player's hand against my clit, laughing. “That would be cute. If they behaved. Which they would not.”
“They’d run off with the rings?”
“One hundred percent guaranteed.”
“That is not statue-worthy behavior,” he says.
Or something like that. I’m not paying full attention as his hand is grinding against me again.
“No, it is not. But may?—”
I lose my words as his other hand slides up and cups my breast.
The amount of heat and tingling his hands are causing, even through my clothes, is intense, and I completely lose my train of thought.
“But what?” he asks, humor evident in his tone.
“I have no idea,” I say, my head dropping forward as I lean harder on the desk to keep from crumpling. “Is there any chance that you would put your handsundermy clothes?”
He makes a deep growling noise in the back of his throat and says, “Fuck, Wildflower.”
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” I tell him, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans, then pulling my tank out of my jeans where I had it tucked. Now there’s plenty of room for his big, hot hands.
He’s not shy about the invitation. But he seems determined to continue playing with me. His thumb and index finger tease my nipple through the silk bra cup now. The hand between my legs slides up and then into my jeans, his thick middle finger sliding over my clit with the thin barrier of my panties keeping him from touching me fully.
“Oh God, Alex,” I say as the heat rushes from his fingers throughout my body.
“Fuck, I love hearing my name from those pretty lips,” he says. “Let me make you come like this.”
I nod enthusiastically.
“Hands back on the desk, Wildflower,” he orders.
I slap my palms flat. Anything to make sure he keeps going.
“But more,” I beg.
“More?” he asks, pressing against my clit, a little more firmly and circling faster. “Like this?”
“Yes. But no panties.”
I worry he’s going to tease me a little longer, but I nearly melt when his hands are suddenly at the waistband of my jeans and he’s tugging them and my panties to my knees.
I recover from my surprise quickly enough to reach up and pull my bra down, freeing my breasts. I need this man’s hands directly on me wherever I can get them.
“Oh yes,” he praises gruffly as he runs his hand over my bare butt cheek. “God, you’re pretty everywhere.”
I giggle. It’s mybutt.
He gives me a light smack. “Itwilllook even prettier nice and pink from my palm, Wildflower. Don’t be laughing at me.”
God. I moan. And I should be embarrassed that the threat of a spanking makes me moan, but I’m not.
