Page 125 of The Plus One Pact

I arch my back, grinding my ass against his hardening cock. It feels good. Too good. Everything I need and not nearly enough.

I rock against him until he groans into my neck. Then I bring my eyes to the mirror. What do I want to see?

What do I want to take?

I want to be naked, here, with him. I want to see our bodies tangled together with nothing in the way.

I start with myself. Because it's easier. Because it's fun. Because I want to see his eyes go wide as I strip for him.

I push my dress off my shoulders, down my torso, over my hips.

Then it's the hook of the bra.

He pushes the garment off my shoulders. He takes a long moment to savor the sight of me, then he cups me with both hands. That too, he savors, like he simply wants to feel my flesh as long as possible.

I want that too.

But I want this more.

I arch into him again.

He feels so good against me, hard and warm and mine. Not forever. Maybe not for long.

But now—

Now is perfect.

He toys with me as I roll against him.

He's good at this. He's already driving me out of my mind. And even though I can feel how much he wants me, I believe he can wait forever. I believe in his endless, impossible patience.

But I'm not having any of it.

I make eye contact in the mirror, and I push my panties off my hips. I don't give him a chance to touch me. Instead, I slip my hand between my legs, and stroke myself.

He watches with rapt attention. Like his fantasy from earlier, but closer, more intimate.

He toys with me, running his thumb over my nipples, sinking his teeth into my neck, but he gives me space to work. He lets me stroke myself as I arch against him again and again.

It feels too good.

I'm too close.

I want to come with him. But then I can. I can come again. And again.

So, I enjoy this. I savor this. The beautiful sight of his body behind mine. The strange feeling of him in clothes while I'm naked. I'm the one on display for him, but, somehow, I feel like I have all the power too.

I come fast. Too fast. My sex pulses with orgasm, my body shuddering, my groans bouncing around the room.

It's not enough. I need more. Need him.

But I'm taking that too.

Once I work myself through my orgasm, I turn around, and bring my lips to his. I kiss him softly, this time.

He matches my pace, swirling his tongue around mine, pulling by body into his.

Then, all of a sudden, he moves faster. Harder. He scrapes his teeth against my lower lip. He does away with his suit jacket.