Steamy Encounters
His hands stayed on her thighs and his thumbs stroked the soft inner skin just above her knees.
Matt's gaze travelled down her body in a slow, possessive way, his gaze feeling like soft fingers on her body. He saw the tremble in her hands as she gripped the counter's edge, and the dark, tight peaks of her nipples, still glistening with his saliva and the last traces of milk.
“Look at you,” he said, his voice rough. “Sitting on your kitchen counter. Tits out, just for me.”
Mara's face burned, and she tried to pull her legs together, but his hips held them apart. The thick ridge of his erection pressed against the thin cotton of her pyjama pants, right at her core.
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