She rocked against him as he circled her clit. His other arm was tight across her chest, holding her in place.
“Please,” she whimpered.
“It’s okay. You can go slow, can’t you? For me?”
“No,” she panted. “No, no.” She was so close now. So close. He could say anything he wanted, as long as he kept touching her that way.
His hand slipped up, gliding over her belly.
“No!”
But he held her tight with his arms and his leg and he teased her nipples as if they had all the time in the world. She was sobbing. Begging. Almost angry by the time he touched her clit again. And she arched into him with a desperate cry.
“See how nice it can be to go slow?” He stroked her. Stroked her again. She was so close. So close. “See, Jenny?”
“Please,” she cried.
He finally let her loose. She twisted away, and he caught her and pulled her toward him as he turned to his back. “Now,” he growled, breathing almost as hard as she was. He gripped her hips and moved her to straddle him. “Show me how you felt at the racetrack.”
He gripped his shaft and pulled her down, and his cock surged into her.
She screamed.
“Show me,” he urged, his palm flattening to her belly as he thumbed her clit.
“Oh, God,” she cried.
“Show me how you learned to go hard, Jenny.”
She dropped her hips and showed him. And Jenny knew she’d found a better way to fly.
* * * * *