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Veronica closed her eyes and sighed at the pleasure. The heat of him. The rough drag of his calloused hands against her bare skin.

He sucked at the curve of her neck and his hands were suddenly at her breasts, his fingers plucking at her nipples, twisting pleasure into her that somehow wound around her pussy and squeezed it tight.

She breathed his name, so new to her but so comforting. As if she knew him. As if her body knew him.

The calloused tips of his fingers drifted down her belly and sneaked beneath her panties. She’d worn black lace for him tonight, dressing just for this moment, and she watched his hand slide beneath the wisp of fabric.

Her clit felt tight and tense before he even touched it. When his fingers found her, her whole body jerked in shock.

“Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “Let me touch you.”

“Yes,” she said eagerly, loving the way his fingers slipped into her wetness. His mouth sucked at her neck, and his hands worked her, one at her breast, the other stroking along her pussy. He teased her for a long while, brushing her clit only occasionally as he stroked, but then he finally centered there, drawing small circles of pleasure into her.

Even above all that, she could still feel his cock. It pressed rhythmically against the small of her back, his own wetness letting him slide against her skin. God, she wanted to taste that again, wanted the salty slippery feel of his precome on her tongue. His cock wanted inside her. It wanted to slide into her. Fill her up. She pictured that and the pleasure pressed harder against her clit, pushing toward his fingers.

“Yes,” she murmured. She dug her nails into his wrist, trying to press his hand harder to her.

“Does that feel good, Veronica?” he whispered.

“Yessss.”

“Mmm.” He slid his hand deeper into her panties, and suddenly his finger was inside her, stretching her open.

“Oh, God,” she sobbed.

“Are you ready to fuck?” he asked. “Are you squirming for it?”

“Yes.”

His finger slid out and he was teasing her clit again, and now she really was squirming, pushing back into his cock, trying her best to torture him the way he was torturing her.

“Or do you want to come first?” he asked, rubbing more firmly into the terrible, wonderful tightness of her clit.

“Yes,” she answered immediately. “Yes, I want that. Please. I want to come.” She was so close. So close. If she could just stop thinking. If she could just relax. It was right there.

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His fingers left her, sliding free of her panties. She felt the cool wetness of her own arousal on her stomach. “Wait,” she begged.

“Shh,” he said again. He slid her panties down, then cupped one of her ass cheeks in his hand. “God, you’ve got a gorgeous ass,” he said.

If she hadn’t been so frustrated, she would have been thrilled with his words, but they seemed trivial at the moment. Who cared what he thought of her ass? She wanted him focused on her clit.

“Gabe,” she growled.

He laughed a little, and she was shocked by how angry it made her.

“Frustrated?” he asked as he turned her to face him.

She wiped the arrogance off his face by wrapping her hand around his cock. “Make me come,” she said, feeling greedy for it now that she knew he could.

“I will. When you’re ready.” His narrowed eyes looked dangerous now, glinting with lust and power as he looked at her hand around his cock.

“Make me come,” she ordered again.

“Not until I’m deep inside you,” he growled, backing her up to the mattress.

Shocked, she felt the world tip as she fell back onto the bed. When he stepped between her knees, her legs spread for him, and she felt vulnerable, decadent, her thighs open and her panties still hanging from one ankle.


Tags: Victoria Dahl Jackson: Girls' Night Out Romance