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His cock twitches,

the heat of him pulsing through his jeans.

His hips press closer,

chasing my hand,

and his throat bobs,

trying to swallow back a groan.

I stroke once and squeeze him,

making his exhale tremble.

Another graze, another squeeze.

And then a third time.

A fourth.

His hand shakes between my thighs.

My lips brush over his.

“Look at you, shaking,” I breathe into his mouth. “You that close?”

His throat catches, the words stuck.

I touch his jaw, taste his wet cinnamon breath.

“C’mon, I want you to come for me.

“Don’t hold back.”

His hips stutter, and he grabs mine.

“Jesus, Allison—don’t?—”

The rest dies against my lips when I stroke him again.

“You can let go here,” I whisper.

“I got you, remember?”

His breath breaks in half.

Jagged inhales. Curse-filled exhales.

He can barely hold on to my lips.

Another stroke,

and his hips grind forward, giving in.

He jerks,

pulses,