Touching her pussy, even through her clothes, was addictive. I left my hand right there, toying with the hem of her shorts. She felt hot through the material, and I needed to know if she was wet. Suddenly, it was all I could think about. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had sex. I’d blocked it all out. But better than blocking it out was replacing it with someone new. Someone I chose. The only person I wanted.
