“Tell me you want me again,” he ordered as his fingers tugged at my nipple. “What if I’m over it?” I breathed. His grin was sinful. “I can feel how wet you are for me through my pants. You’re not over it.” “Are you?” I asked. “If I thought for a second I could get away with it, I’d have you bent over the bar with this tiny excuse for a skirt flipped up around your waist and my cock inside you.”
