Not Enough

Close your eyes, find yourself at my front door. I open it for you, our eyes meet, a flash of recognition between strangers. Upstairs, you follow to my study.

A closed door, and strong hands settle around your waist. Warm breath tickles the back of your neck, hands follow the lines of your thighs down as they reach for the edge of your skirt, drawing them up over skin.

Can you see it? Are your hands with mine, sliding along the front of your thighs?

Exposed, vulnerable, you press back against the shelter of my arms, back against me hard enough to feel me resting against your ass. My knee parts the back of thighs, spreading them just far enough for my hands to delve deeper, a flat palm pressing down with deliberate patience, feeling your heat against my fingers. The other is on your blouse, under it, fingers finding the curve of breasts, enjoying their weight, their promise.

Fingers circle nipples slowly, tugging gently to remind you of the tension, plucking lightly at the lines between nipples and clit. “Such a good girl.” My words are so close, they are inside of you. With urgency, I draw your blouse off, quickly, letting it slip to the floor at your feet.

Can you feel it? Your hands on breasts, knowing my touch, knowing my need?

Not enough.

I slip fingers between panties and bared lips, smooth and slick, “Yes.” Inside, two deep, feeling you well against them, sucking greedily as I slip them in and out. Fingers wet, I turn to face you, running them across the top of your breast. Leaning over, my words pressed into glistening skin, “I want to paint you with this…”

6 thoughts on “Not Enough”

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