He stroked my clit with his thumb through my panties, then put his whole hand inside them. His palm pressed me, his fingers playing with my slickness. He put a finger inside me, and I muffled my cry with my hand, not caring if I smeared my lipstick.
Catalog
Megan Hart
Megan Hart is an American author of romantic and erotic novels. Hart became interested in writing after reading the Ray Bradbury short story Homecoming. Moved by this work, she rewrote her own version and began creating stories. She was inspired to write professionally after reading Stephen King's The Stand. After a long break Hart resumed writing in 1998, publishing her first book in 2002. Hart has a degree in journalism from Indiana University of Pennsylvania. She lives in Pennsylvania with her two children and husban
His eyes followed my every movement. The front of his pants had begun bulging again, and that sight triggered more desire. I pushed my hand into the front of my panties and found the hard nodule of my clit. I pinched it as I pinched my nipple, working both small tight buds at the same time.
I put my arms around his neck to bring his mouth back to my neck. He obliged me by kissing me there. I tilted my head to offer him more, and he took it. He pressed his teeth to the spot he'd bitten but didn't bite this time. His tongue smoothed the spot. He slid his hands beneath my rear to tilt me…
The hand on my throat moved down to cup my breast. A sigh eased out of me, followed by a quick intake of breath when he passed a thumb over my nipple, already straining against the lace. He tweaked it through my clothes, then put his hand flat over it again. A hand over my heart and his mouth on the…
He slid his hand between us and I felt his fingers close around his cock, lubricating it with the wetness from my lips, and the thought of what he was doing excited me even more. In another moment he'd pulled me back against his again and continued stroking my clit, but now his penis slid more…
'Suck her nipples,' Dan offered. 'She likes that.' Jack nodded and slid up my body to take my nipple between his lips before I even had time to take a breath. I'd been right about the tongue stud. Like the ring in his penis, the metal was warm and smooth, and I gasped as he worked it against my…
He positioned himself on top of me, using his arms to keep from crushing me. His cock nudged me, and I parted for him and tilted my hips to allow him entrance. He rubbed the tip along my folds, pushing in a little before reaching between us to guide himself all the way inside. I moaned when he did,…
His hand slid down my hip to my thigh. His fingers caught the hem of my skirt, inching it up as we danced, until he could slip his hand beneath it. He cupped me, the heel of his hand pressed against my clit on the outside of my panties.
I didn't know his birthday, or if he had siblings, or where he'd grown up. I didn't know his favorite color, or if he'd played sports. I knew how he tasted and smelled, and I knew the length and girth of his penis, the curve of his ass, the pattern of freckles on his shoulder, the number of hairs…
'No, Dan. I need to know that if I say no, you'll stop. I need to know that.'
Sex makes bumble-tongued fools even out of the most eloquent, but the beauty of it is that it also tunes our ears to hear the meaning of words that, spoken under other circumstances, would make us laugh or cry or frown.
I've been hit on plenty of times, mostly by men with little finesse who thought what was between their legs made up for what they lacked between their ears
Sex is not wrong. Sex is not dirty. Not even sex in a public place with a man you barely know. It's not. Sex is a gift, a built-in human pleasure, something to enjoy and cherish and utilize. Sex rejuvenates. Sex replenishes. Orgasms are just one more miraculous function our body provides, no more…
This man had licked whipped cream from my nipples. I didn't need a shrink to tell me holding hands in public shouldn't have been an issue.
People can't just fuck. They can't. One or the other gets caught up in emotion, someone gets hurt.
A woman's orgasm is such a fragile thing, dependent as much upon her mind as on her clitoris.