Page 19 of The Pitcher’s Proposal

Then Dakota shifts. Her pussy presses against my cock through our clothes, and a groan tears out of me. Her eyes widen as she feels me grow rock hard against her.

“Yeah,” I say against her mouth. “That’s been a problem all night.”

I grip her hips and she rolls them against me. The friction is almost enough to make me lose my mind, and judging by the way she responds, it’s clear that Dakota feels the same. We keep kissing and grinding against each other until I’m hard enough to hurt and Dakota is breathing in little broken sounds against my mouth. My hands move over her waist and wide hips, then lower to her plump ass, pulling her firmly against me each time she rolls forward.

I kiss down her neck. “I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long.”

Her head tips back as my mouth moves over her skin. “How long?”

“Since February.”

She laughs breathlessly. “You didn’t even know me.”

“I wanted you from the second I saw you.” My hand slides up her side, feeling the curves beneath her dress. “And then I got to know you, which made it worse.”

“Worse?”

“Much fucking worse.”

I kiss her again before she can say anything in response. Her dress comes off slowly, with Dakota lifting her arms while I pull it over her head. Then she’s sitting on my lap in a black bra and matching panties, and I’m speechless.

She’s absolutely gorgeous. Her stomach is soft, her hips full beneath my hands, her breasts rosy above the lace cups. Dakota sees me staring and immediately starts to look self-conscious.

“Don’t,” I say.

Her eyes come back to mine. I run both hands over her waist, then down to her hips. “You’re perfect.”

Heat spreads across her face. “Brendan.”

“I’m serious.” I kiss the upper curve of one breast, then the other. “Your tits drive me fucking crazy.”

Her breath catches. I move lower, kissing her soft stomach while my hands stay on her hips. “So does this.”

I kiss one thigh where it meets her hip. “And these.”

“You’ve apparently thought about this a lot.”

“You have no fucking idea.”

By the time I sit back, Dakota doesn’t look self-conscious anymore. She reaches for my shirt. We get it off together, then she runs both hands over my chest before leaning forward to kiss me again. Her palms move over my shoulders and down my sides while I unclasp her bra and slide the straps from her arms.

Her breasts spill free. “Fuck.”

Dakota laughs softly. “Very articulate.”

I cup one breast and take the nipple into my mouth. Her laugh turns into a moan.

I suck slowly, feeling the nipple tighten against my tongue. Dakota arches into me, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I switch sides. By the time I lift my head, she’s flushed from her chest to her face.

I slide a hand between her thighs. Her panties are already damp.

“Dakota.”

Her eyes close as I stroke two fingers over the wet fabric.

“Look at me,” I say.

She opens them. I rub her slowly through her panties, watching her expression change as I find her clit through the thin material. Her hips ache against my hand.