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My thumbs and forefingers found her nipples, rolling them over and over as she started to arch into the sensation. Only then did I squeeze tighter. And tighter.

A little whimper escaped her as her hips writhed subconsciously, needing more.

But I wasn’t done exploring.

My hands squeezed her breasts, feeling the weight of them, the way they perfectly filled my hands. Overfilled, to be truthful.

“You feel so good,” I murmured, my nose teasing up the shell of her ear, and I didn’t miss the way her body shivered a bit at the words. “More?” I asked as my fingers slipped back to her nipples.

“Yes.”

My fingers rolled again, but increased pressure, making the blood rush to the tips, making the pleasure tiptoe the line of pain, something that had her fingernails digging into the skin on my knees as I continued to tease her.

“Brock,” she whimpered, getting desperate for more.

My hands slid away from her breasts, moving back down her belly.

Then going between her thighs, teasing up her cleft, teasing around the outside of her clit, but refusing to make direct contact.

I loved the way she squirmed, writhed, the way her breath caught then exhaled in short little bursts, like her body was forgetting how it worked, was too lost in the sensations to figure it out again.

“You’re so sensitive,” I said as my fingers traced that soft spot where the thigh met the side of her sex.

My hands moved inward at the same time, pressing her lips closed, then rubbing along the cleft, creating a friction without any direct contact.

“Brock, please,” she whimpered a few moments later, too far gone to care about begging, about being so damn desperate for me.

Then and only then did my one hand find her clit as my other hand moved down and pressed two fingers inside her tight, wet, pussy, feeling the way her walls clenched around them, knowing they would do the same to my cock when I got inside of her again.

But not yet.

I wanted to drag this out.

I wanted to drive her to that edge over and over but deny her the release each time, until she was begging, until she was damn near crying for release.

Then I was going to slide inside her, feel her close around me, inviting me in deep.

I underestimated her, though.

I figured she would stay passive, would allow me to keep giving her the sweet torment without the blissful relief.

This was Miranda Coulter, though.

A woman at the top of a man’s world.

The most self-assured woman I’d ever met.

When she wanted something, she wasn’t going to sit around and wait for her.

She straightened suddenly, pulling away, then turning around to face me.

Her hands reached for me, and I was too thrown off to know what was going on, so I just went with it as she pulled me upward onto my knees.

The water teased over my hips.

But my cock was straining upward out of the water.

And then Miranda was reaching out for it, wrapping her hand around my shaft, then leaning down to suck me into her mouth.


Tags: Jessica Gadziala Romance