Laying Across Someone's Lap Novels & Stories

But then, his hand found its way to my leg, sending a surge of familiar sensations coursing through me, evoking memories of our intimate moments the night before. Suddenly, Jake took hold of my hand, guiding me to straddle him. Grateful for the privacy afforded by the car's partition, I adjusted myself onto his lap, unwittingly pressing my body against his as I settled in. Lost in the moment, I met Jake's gaze as he smiled, his touch sending waves of comfort and desire coursing through me. Despite the intimacy of our position, any discomfort I might have felt was overshadowed by the overwhelming sense of ease I experienced with him.

"Bringing you back to the only open spot in the mess hall." "But that's your's! And I won't take the Alpha's seat after he has already been sitting there. That's just rude!" She says stubbornly. I make it to our table and, with one arm fully supporting her weight, I pull the chair out. I cradle her to my chest like an infant before sitting down with her on my lap. The table errupts in laughter as she straightens her pose getting comfortable. "Hi everyone!" Layla says in an effort to regain control. "What's for dinner?"

He leans back against the leather, legs spreading just enough, one hand patting his thigh once. “Sit on my lap.” My stomach flips. “I—” His eyes narrow, playful but edged with steel. “Don’t make me ask twice, pup.” I hesitate. One heartbeat. Two. Then I move—slow, shaky—climbing into his lap, knees bracketing his hips, hands resting uncertainly on his shoulders. The second I settle, his arms come around me—loose enough that I could pull away, tight enough that I know I won’t. “There,” he murmurs against my ear, lips brushing the shell. “Was that so hard?”

I slowly start to feel my body again to discover I'm laying on the floor, a hint of confusion takes over my senses. As I become more with it I discover that as I've said, I was on the floor but my head wasn't. It didn't feel like the ground but someone's lap, who's lap could I be laying in? And more to the fact, why am I laying in their lap? My eyes slowly open where it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, before I discover who's lap I'm laying in, Cody's. His worried face was looking down at me with his hand running through my hair, sparks just spread wherever he would touch.

Good. When I reached him, I stepped right into his space, so close our chests almost touched. His scent hit me hard, something warm and sharp and aggravatingly addictive. His breath hitched. Perfect. I lifted one knee and slid into his lap, straddling him smoothly. His hands flew up like he didn’t know if he should grab me or throw me off. “Leon you shouldn't....” he choked out. I shouldn't? Well too bad for him I wasn't dhoing anything because I should or shouldn't. I was doing it because I wanted to.

Desired. My hands moved up, cupping my breasts, squeezing gently as I danced. I arched my back, letting my head fall, hair spilling down my spine. A low groan escaped him. His leg shifted, adjusting himself, and the sight of how hard he already was made heat flood between my thighs. I moved closer—slow, teasing steps—until I was right in front of him. Then I straddled his lap, knees on either side of his hips, and started giving him the lap dance he’d been waiting for.

"Another way to connect. But only if you're ready." My pulse quickens with anticipation. With need. "I'm ready." His smile is slow and beautiful. "Come here." He guides me with gentle hands, repositioning us with the same deliberate care he's shown throughout this entire experience. He shifts so his legs are crossed, creating a stable base, and then he lifts me, positions me on his lap so I'm straddling him. Lotus style. Heat gathers low in my stomach. This isn't just sitting, it's intimacy, connection. A position that requires trust and vulnerability and complete openness.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto Nicholas’s lap, my body rigid as I avoided looking at either him or the woman across the desk. The moment I settled on his lap, Nicholas’s arm snaked around my waist, his grip firm and possessive. He tugged me closer, adjusting me so I was pressed flush against him, my soft curves molding to the hard planes of his body. A gasp escaped my lips, my cheeks burning as I felt the heat of his touch through my thin blouse. His fingers lingered on my waist, a silent claim that made my pulse race. Lara’s voice cut through the charged silence, sharp and accusatory. “Who is she, Nicholas? Why is she on your lap?”

Now I'm empty. My eyes were heavy as stone but the last thing I thought was strange men on a motorcycle whose head was directed into my window. Nobody else was at home only me and Dominick and I was on the second floor and he was on the first. It wasn't any mistake that he was there for me so what he wanted from me? will I see him again? I closed my eyes thinking about strange men and fell asleep. ...... -"Wake up you lazy baby" Dominick jumped on my bed near my legs and with his hands, he pushed my ass up and down, up and down, up and down...And I jumped like some yoyo in his hands.

“Layla?” The woman stood from her seat fast. She ran up to me, and looked me over. “Lucifer! It’s Layla! The woman jumped up and down, her breast bouncing so hard, they looked like they were going to come out of the fabric. She hugged me tightly, making me feel like I was in between closing walls. “I... can’t… breath…” I got out a few words before she squeezed all the air out of my lungs. “Breath?” The lady asked, like it was a weird statement. She looked at Jamira.