“This is very revealing,” he murmurs. His hand skims lower, over my backside and down to my naked thigh. He pauses, gray eyes burning intently into blue. Then slowly he trails his fingers back up to the hem of my skirt. Watching his long fingers move lightly, teasingly across my skin, feeling the tingles they leave in their wake, my mouth forms a perfect O. “It’s not far from here.” He touches the hem, then moves his fingers higher. “To here,” he whispers. I gasp as his fingers stroke my sex, moving tantalizingly over my panties, feeling me, teasing me. “And your point is?” I whisper. “My point is . . . it’s not far from here”—his fingers glide over my panties, then one is inside, against my soft dampened flesh— “to here. And then . . . to here.” He slips a finger inside me. I gasp and make a soft mewling sound. “This is mine,” he murmurs in my ear. Closing his eyes, he moves his finger slowly in and out of me. “I don’t want anyone else to see this.” My breath stutters, my panting matching the rhythm of his finger. Watching him in the mirror, doing this . . . it’s beyond erotic. “So be a good girl and don’t bend down, and you should be fine.”
