The Den of Desires
I pressed play one more time, and the tension in my jeans told me everything I didn’t want to admit.
Heather was right, Adele Langford was trouble, the kind that sank its hooks into you and wouldn't let go.
But fuck if that didn't make her irresistible.
I wore my headphones to have better sound, the slower remix of my track pulsing through the headphones clamped over my ears, the vibration settling deep in my chest and lower still.
She moved like liquid sin, hips rolling in a rhythm that matched the throb building in my cock. No desperation here, just pure, unfiltered seduction, her skirt hiking up as she dipped low, thighs parting just enough to hint at the heat between them.
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