All she wanted to do was move. She wanted to squirm against his thigh.
Though honestly, she didn’t realize she was actually doing it, until his eyes suddenly widened. He seemed to stiffen, and his leg tried to shift downward to get away from her, and when neither of those things worked he shot a hand out and grabbed her hip. He forced her to keep still.
Despite how much worse that definitely was. A low moan wrenched itself out of her, the second he did it. And so of course the first thing he said when they heard the Jerks’ voices start to fade wasn’twow, that was closeorhey, so I guess we should worry more about being killed by those fuckersor evenlet’s go figure out what they were looking for.
No. They were: “Oh my fuckinggod,are you turned on right now?”
Which was fair, given what she was doing. But she had to at least try denying it.
“No, of course not,” she snorted. Very unconvincingly.
“Cassie, you just tried to fuck my leg.”
“Oh come on. I wasn’t trying to fuck it.”
“You’re still doing it now. I can feel you squirming.”
He was right. No matter how much she tried to keep herself still, she found it almost impossible to. That thick muscle of hishad spread her thighs too effectively; it had given her too solid and warm a thing to make contact with. It seemed almost unnatural not to ease the ache between her legs by using it.
Even if using it was really bad. And not something she could accept.
“Maybe I’m just uncomfortable with your big thigh right there.”
“And did that big uncomfortable thigh also make you this fucking wet?”
She tried to snort dismissively to that question too. But this one was harder.
Because god, it shocked her that he could tell. That he knew.
And grasping that he did made her denials clumsy.
“You can’t possibly know something like that,” she said.
Which of course only confirmed he was right.
Not that he needed confirmation.
“Of course I can. Cassie, I can hear it every time you move.”
“Well, maybe you’re just not listening right. Maybe it’s something else.”
“There isn’t anything else that sounds like something slick sliding over a swollen, flushed little pussy. And even if there were, it wouldn’t matter. Because I can feel it, too, oh god I canfeelhow wet you are. Fuck, how are youthiswet?”
He said “pussy,” he said “flushed, swollen little pussy,”her brain screamed.
Though she didn’t know why that was the thing it was focusing on. Why the words made her want to moan and rut against him all over again, as if there were nothing shameful about it. Because after all, there were far more important and potentially lust-killing matters to deal with.
Like the fact that she was. Oh god, she was so preposterously wet she’d somehow made a mess of her panties, and her jeans, and then made a mess ofhisjeans. The whole space between them was a mess, in a way that seemed completely impossible.
Or at the very least utterly embarrassing.
Yet somehow, embarrassment wasn’t what she felt.
It was another surge of arousal. And one that took a lot to biteback. She had to count to ten before she could talk. “It must be just the friction,” she said. But of course he wasn’t having it.
“We barely moved, Cassie.”
“Okay, so maybe the situation did it.”
