Insatiable Cravings
I smiled, pressing my thigh against his palm, feeling the warmth seep through.
After breakfast, I changed into my workout gear: tight leggings that hugged every curve of my arse and pussy lips, a sports bra that left my midriff exposed, nipples faintly visible through the thin material. No knickers—easier access. The drive to the village gym was short, my mind racing with possibilities. Marcus was in his late twenties, built like a rugby player, with dark skin, shaved head, and eyes that stripped you bare. I'd flirted shamelessly before, brushing against him during stretches, but today, I wanted more.
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