Beryl
Dean ran his hand down over my hip, caressing it while he spoke against my neck. “Most? Hard to say.” He curved his fingers around my hip bone like I loved, teasing me with the dig of his fingertips. “The fact that your ass was on display for me. The way you jumped around on my knee…and rubbed your clit on me.” I took a sharp inhalation, and Dean shifted his fingers forward, stroking the top of my mound with the faintest touch. “The sound of my hand on you? That was sexy. The way you cried out, too. And when I hit your pussy…” After he said this, he ran his fingers lower. I parted my legs, the blanket and sheets falling away from us. “Did you like that?”.
