Page 61 of CowSex

My fanny flutters have turned into full on clit quivers, and I fight not to physically shudder.

“Koa.” I try to use a warning tone, but my voice sounds breathy and more than just a little turned on.

“Answer the fucking question, Essex. Did. It. Feel. Good?”

The fire’s stacked with logs, the heat intense, and I have the faux fur blanket over my legs, as well as a cushion resting in my lap. Yet, still...still, goose bumps march up my spine, spread down my arms, and bloom across my chest.

My nipples pull tight and tingle. There’s no way he can be aware of this through what I’m wearing, but I want him to be. I have a great rack, and I want him to see it, but even more overpowering is the need I have forhimtowantto see me.

“Yes.” I give him my honest answer.

“How good.”

“The best.”

He closes his eyes and swallows. Involuntary, Kegels kick in, and my mouth falls open as a groan attempts to escape.

“You turned on right now, Essex?”

I nod, it’s all I have.

“Me, too. I’ve been hard ever since I tackled you to my driveway.”

Jesus.

“I’d really like for you to come over here, straddle my lap, and let me take care of you, but before I ask you to do that…”

I’m motionless. My heart hammering in my chest as I wait for him to continue.

“There’s something you need to know. Something we have to be on the same page about.”

I blink, and he watches me. I lick my lips as he bites down on his. We watch each other’s actions.

“C’mere,” he orders.

I lean forward and put my wine glass down on the coffee table. The cushion and blanket slide from my lap to the floor and I take one, then two steps towards him. His big hand reaches out for my hip, and he pulls me towards him.

We both changed when we got home. Koa has jogging bottoms on, I’m wearing leopard print lounge pants—a Primark bargain at just six quid. They are so thin that as he pulls me to straddle him, I can not only see his erection through his clothes but I also feel it.

All of it.

All thoughts of Primark are banished from my brain…. for now.

I rock backwards and forwards, his cock perfectly positioned to rub my clit in an oh-so-amazing way, but both of his hands grip my hips and still me.

“Slow down there, Essex, we need to talk.”

My breath escapes in short pants. Talk? Is he fucking mad? An orgasm is all that I’m after. Maybe two.

“I promise I’ll still respect you in the morning,” I blurt. That earns me another sexy smile, and I shake my head. “No, please don’t give me that look. I’ve never been a squirter, but I swear to God right now, I’m about to blow all over your dick.”

Yep. I actually just said that aloud.

Classy, Gracie. Really. Classy.

“Glad I’ve got you so worked up, baby.”

I throw my head back and look at the ceiling.