Sara Michaels
The conversation at the table continued smoothly, but underneath the heavy linen tablecloth, Kingsley’s hand never left Sara’s thigh.
“You’re doing so well, baby,” he whispered so quietly that only she could hear, his fingers slowly tracing higher beneath the hem of her dress. “Sitting here like the perfect, innocent girlfriend while my c*m is still dripping out of you.”
Sara’s breath hitched. She kept her face perfectly composed, smiling politely at Eleanor as she nodded along to the conversation. But inside, her heart was racing.
’He’s going to drive me crazy,’ she thought, pressing her thighs together in a futile attempt to stop the slow trickle of his warm release that kept leaking from her well-f****d p***y.
Kingsley’s fingers moved with maddening patience. He gentl
