Wren
“Yes. God, yes,” I squeal with an eager nod.
My answer comes quick. I don’t even have to think about it.
I fling myself into his arms before he can clasp the necklace around my neck.
Cupping my face, our lips press together.
What started out as slow quickly heats up, and when he grabs my thighs over his laps, it only turns hungrier.
“My girl,” he rasps through kisses, pushing a hand under my dress to palm my ass.
I moan in his mouth, stomach clenching in pleasure as arousal seeps through my core.
His hard length teases at my covered entrance, and I grind down on it, pulling a pained groan from his lips.
My hands are everywhere. Tugging at his hair, pushed under his shirt. In everything, our lips don’t disconnect.
Not when he hooks a finger in the band of my panties, ripping
