Mark sank into the couch, legs spread, eyes dark with something wicked. He patted his thigh.
“Come here.”
I hesitated, but my legs were already moving. My body wasn’t mine anymore, it belonged to the heat, to the hands that had pulled me apart and left me trembling.
Mark grabbed my waist and pulled me into his lap. I straddled him, thighs shaking, skirt riding high. His hands slid under the fabric, gripping my ass, pulling me closer until my p***y was pressed firm against the rough denim of his jeans.
He leaned in, mouth hot against my ear. “Skirt up.”
I lifted it with shaking fingers, baring myself to him — thighs parted, soaked, still dripping from what Ethan had done under the table.
Mark's hands slid under my thighs, pulling them wider, exposing everything. I felt air hit the we
