He's standing there, staring at me. Every part of him looks like he's appreciating the view. I don't really mind. There's nothing better than being watched, being worshipped, being shown how stunning someone thinks you are.
I sink down onto my knees and let my palms press into the leather beneath me. Dark hair falls over one eye and I stretch, arching my back and pressing my shoulders out. His eyes rake over me and, after a moment, he collects himself.
"Just takin' in the sights," he says, and his accent is particularly heavy tonight. "It's a pretty nice view from back here."
"You should come take a closer look." I shift again, raising my ass higher into the air. Thin strips of lace, white and black, are the only things left on me. Hopefully, they're going to join my dress on the floor - and soon.
A moment passes. Then a second, a third, and he's on the bed behind me. Rough denim presses against the back of my thighs and he settles between my legs. A hand, large and warm and roughened from callouses gained working the fields, rests on my tattoo.
This is better, I think, taking a moment to look my catch up and down. He's dark and broad, with sharp eyes and a curious quirk to his lips. I've done good this time.
His hand slides over her skin. Nimble fingers toy with the string of her thong, curling and twisting around it...giving a sharp yank and snapping the fabric.
"You're paying for those," I snap, even as I press back against him. My answer comes in the form of a zipper being undone. "Maybe," he tells me, in a tone of voice that says he's honestly debating on it.
Nice, I think. Then there's a sudden spark of pain and heat and undeniable pleasure. I don't think much else after that.
Written by: Paintedzipper