The Chase

I was expecting her hand.

I love that hand. She is very clever with it. Deliciously, deviously clever.

Her fingers snap, finding those tweakingly, achingly, oh god make me purr places.

I was shamelessly raising my backside, chasing that hand that she was being maddeningly conservative in applying. I'd inched up my knees to bringing myself higher, huffing, whimpering, when she did it.

She bit me.

Bit my bum.

I near shot off her lap, gasping.

She rumbled with more laughter as she nipped at my oversensitive self; her teeth grazing and capturing my skin.

And when her tongue followed…

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