Page 117 of Just for the Plot

I stay put, straddling him in just the right way…

“I just like how you happened to pin me down despite me being much bigger than you,” he playfully says.

“It’s not my fault you folded like a feather,” I counter, shifting on top of him.

“Maybe I wanted to be folded by you.”

“Oh? For what reason?”

“So you could straddle me like this,” he answers, his eyes never moving from mine.

My hands fall to his chest. “And why would you want that?”

“You tell me,” he says, shifting my hips so they smooth over his bulge.

His exceptionally large bulge.

My eyes widen as I feel him rub right between my legs and it’s…oh fuck, it’s such a good feeling.

Holy shit…so good that I allow him to move my hips again, rubbing the length of him between my thighs.

My skin breaks out into a sweat as that telltale feeling of being instantly turned on pulses through my veins and sends my mind into a frenzy of needing more.

So much more.

And when I grind on top of him for the third time, the juncture between my thighs prickles in excitement and I can feel myself grow wet, as I take it upon myself to move my hips, slowly, torturously, but just enough for my body to feel all of him.

All.

Of.

Him.

God, I know I should stop, that I shouldn’t even be straddling him, but maybe it’s the wine, or the fact that I’m so freaking horny, or that this feels so damn good that I might lose my mind. Either way, I can’t stop myself, but truth be told, he’s not stopping me either.

He’s not telling me to get off him.

He’s not lecturing me about whether or not we should be in this sort of position.

No, when I look him in the eyes, it almost seems like he wants this just as much as I do.

“What’s happening?” I ask as I grind down on him, his teeth pulling on the corner of his lip. So freaking sexy.

“It seems like you’re trying to get yourself off,” he answers, his cock so fucking big.

“I shouldn’t.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment as my stomach clenches, needing more.

“But you are.”

I nod, dipping my head forward.

Stop, Bower.

Stop what you’re doing and remove yourself.

But…God, I don’t want to.

I want this.