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He grins and shakes his head. “I’m dreaming.”
“Do I usually make an appearance in your dreams?” I ask, pulling the braces tighter so that they bite hard into his shoulder muscles.
He grunts, his neck arching back at the burn, and he nods down at me.
“Yeah, you’ve been in my dreams.”
“And what kind of dreams are they?” I continue, my breath catching in my throat when he presses the front of his pants up against my belly. He’s so hard and thick that my eyes roll backwards.
He lowers his mouth to my neck and gives me a gentle suck. So gentle that I moan and my nipples pinch beneath my clothes.
He breathes a laugh against my skin and then rises so that he’s towering over me again, pulling me up with his forearms so that my lips are only an inch from his.
He waits until I settle and then he finally whispers, “They’re the kind of dreams that I have to wash the sheets after.”
A delighted giggle bursts out of me, Mitch clutches me closer, and then he finally presses his mouth down on mine. His hands knead my ass rough and fast, and he grunts with pleasure at the feeling. Then he slants my mouth open and slides his tongue inside, with a long hot stroke.
I moan, no longer laughing, and my legs automatically move to wrap around him. He dips down so that he can shove up the bottom of my dress and then he hitches my thigh high up around his waist. I clutch at the tops of his biceps as his hips pin me to the table, at first grinding me hard against the edge, and then lifting me onto it completely so that both of my legs are off the ground.
He slips his tongue around mine, rubbing and licking until I’m whimpering, and his palms knead my thighs until I’m splayed, wanting and boneless.
“Mitch,” I whisper, rubbing my breasts up against him.
He pulls back to look at me, his face set hard with masculine appreciation. The skirt of my dress has bunched in the middle, hiding my underwear, but my legs are fully exposed and he admires them blatantly. I wrap my ankles around his ass and use his hard muscles to help me kick off my kitten heels.
He breathes out a laugh and clasps my ankles in his palms when I’m finished, rubbing them so gently that I have to sit back on my elbows to stop myself from succumbing to total limpness.
“I like your… top,” he says gruffly as his eyes rake up my arms and over my chest.
“It’s a cardigan,” I say breathlessly, tugging him closer against my lap when he releases my ankles.
“Cardigan,” he grunts, like he’s never heard of one before.
“Do you wanna see what’s underneath it?” I ask, lifting one hand from behind my body so that I can toy with the buttons running from my breasts to my belly.
He makes a low sound and encases both sides of my waist with his hands, his eyes on my chest.
“Yeah.”
I slip the soft fabric off one of my shoulders and I watch as his eyes cloud over, taking me in.
“Other side,” he rasps, helping my arm out of the sleeve and exposing one half of my baby pink dress, stretched tight across the rounded curves of my upper body.
I sit up and hold out my other arm. He rolls the cardigan down it gently and then, when it’s completely off, he folds it neatly, his eyes on mine.
“Are we…” He struggles to find the appropriate words but his hands on my hips and his groin rubbing my heat tell me exactly what he’s thinking about. “Are we… going to stop? Or…”
I lean up, wrapping my hands around his biceps, and I rub my thumbs over the hard swells, looking up at him from under my lashes.
“Do you want to stop?” I whisper.
He smirks down at me, pressing his crotch more firmly between my thighs. “That feel like I wanna stop to you?”
I press one of my palms flat on the table behind me so that I can keep my balance as his arousal obliterates my bodily control.
“It feels… it, uh…”
“Yeah?” he asks, pressing against me even harder.
