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“Don’t mean to scare you,” he whispers. “I don’t leave until you’re finished.”
My eyes go wide now and I look down to see his right hand slipping into the front of my pants. And my panties, too.
My jaw drops.
I use my left hand to unbutton my pants.
I swallow hard.
My mouth is dry.
I’m forgetting how to breathe.
Cutter’s fingers are aggressive. Perfectly aggressive at that.
I feel his middle finger take the lead and hook between my legs, leaving me groaning as his touch is like a magnet to my clit.
Some guys can’t find it but Cutter can’t help but find it.
I’m not complaining about that at all.
He adds his ring finger too.
I feel his breath tickle the right side of my neck.
I throw my shoulder up for a second.
Then I attempt to relax, or at least enough so he can kiss…
The second his lips and tongue touch my neck, I’m done for.
How can I not be?
Cutter Buckley is kissing my neck. His tongue is sweet and flirty. And his fingers are stuck together, circling and rubbing my clit at the absolute most perfect speed and rhythm.
My hips drive forward and I let out a loud and long groan.
The wave crests and hits me.
I know it’s happening yet I still feel surprised.
Cutter has found all the cheat codes to get to me.
As I rock against his touch, he brushes his lips to my neck and sighs.
I throw my right hand back and dig into his hair.
“Cutter,” I purr.
“I feel it, sweetie,” he whispers. “Your cunt is dripping all over my fingers, sweetie.”
I gasp.
Such an awful, vulgar word to use to describe…
Oh, fuck it. Only Cutter can make that word sound hot.
I close my eyes for a second or two and can’t believe the swarming tingling ecstasy flowing throughout my body.
