The bulge in his jeans was massive as it pressed up against the dark denim. Rather than using my hand, I stuck my tongue out, trailing it up the fabric. He stared down at me, our eyes locked as heat flickered in his gaze. Once I hit the top of the zipper, the tip of my tongue flicking past the button, I said, “Please tell me your name.” He stared at me, likely judging if he should give in that easily, but of course, he was making me work for it. “Tongue out, Darlin’.”
