Hotwife Exotic Stories
He pressed his palm between her thighs over the denim and held it there.
Heat coursed through her body, she was already wet. The knowledge shamed her so deeply that her eyes stung.
“Feel that,” he said, voice low and filthy. “Even through the clothes. Soaked. For me. Not for the dad who just kissed you goodbye.”
Lizzy finally shoved harder, this time he let her go. She stumbled back against the counter, chest rising too fast, blouse still disordered from his hand.
“You are sick,” she whispered.