Jake’s hand slid up my thigh, his fingers brushing against the hem of my skirt. “And what kind of things have you thought about?”
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “Everything,” I whispered. “I’ve thought about you touching me, tasting me…fucking me.”
Jake groaned, his hand sliding higher until his fingers were brushing against my panties. “Fuck, Kim,” he said, his voice strained. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
I gasped as he slipped a finger beneath the fabric, stroking my already damp folds. “Jake,” I moaned, my hips bucking against his hand. “We can’t…it’s wrong.”
But even as I said the words, I knew I didn’t mean them. The taboo nature of our relationship only heightened my arousal, and I found myself spreading my legs wider, giving Jake better access to my aching core.
