Free Trust by PJ Adams Page B

every pulling and tightening of clothes, of contact.
    He pulled me to him, and I tipped my head back, breaking the kiss to release a long sigh that was almost a moan.
    Instantly, his mouth went to my jaw. The scrape of his stubble was electrifying, the scrape of his teeth against the taut skin of my neck, the press of his lips and tongue...
    The hand moved up across my ribcage, thumb finding the swell of a breast, sliding around the contour.
    He moved to cup that breast, thumb against the hardness of my nipple through the layers of top and bra.
    I was gasping now. I couldn’t remember feeling so turned on – so urgently, so abruptly.
    I reached for him, trapping the hand under my moving arm so that it squashed the softness of my breast.
    I found his jacket, pushed it aside. His shirt – so thin and insubstantial!
    I ran the back of my hand across his ribs, the hardness of a tiny nipple; found his neck-tie and gripped the knot, pulling him even harder against me.
    Just then, the car bumped over a ridge in the roadway.
    I pulled away a little, turned to look forward. The driver seemed oblivious to us – either genuinely so, or he was the model of discretion.
    I still had a hold of Dean’s tie, and now I pulled him to me again.
    His face came to mine, cheek to cheek, his breath hot on my ear and neck, face buried in my hair. The hand that had been cupping my breast moved down, flat against my ribcage, then gliding down the curve of my waist.
    I’d turned away slightly, and now I moved to face forward, so it was natural for his hand to come to lie on the flat of my belly.
    I felt that touch resonating everywhere .
    A focused pressure on my belly piercing.
    The warmth spreading out, the sensitivity, the responsiveness.
    Suffused across my skin.
    Penetrating deep in my abdomen.
    The pull of my top, trapped beneath his hand as I breathed so it tightened across my breasts.
    The slight pressure of the side of his hand resting against the waistband of my jeans.
    I arched my back, pushing up against him, like a cat hungry for attention.
    My entire body was alive to his touch.
    To the heat of his breath against my ear, my neck.
    To the press of his body where it came into contact with mine.
    To every slight movement.
    He pulled his head away a little, so that I could see his eyes, that tensing in his jaw again. Eyebrows slightly raised, he was watching me, studying my reactions, reading my responses.
    His hand moved down, until now it rested on the front of my jeans, thumb hooked into the waistband – an abrupt, hard point of pressure – the flat of his hand pressing on my lower belly, just above my sex, fingers splayed, the leading edge of that hand resting across my mound...
    He rocked his hand, just a little, and sensations stabbed through me, a surge of pleasure, of response.
    His eyebrows raised, fractionally, as I sucked my lower lip in between my teeth and my body tensed.
    He pressed again with that leading edge of his hand, and my jeans pulled tight against my sex.
    I squeezed my thighs together, and then, eyes locked on his, eased my legs slightly apart.
    His hand moved down, turning so that his middle two fingers could press between my legs, driving the hardness of the seam of my jeans against my clit.
    My heart was racing, my breath coming in short gasps.
    I parted my legs further, one knee up against the car door, and his hand drove deeper, the heel of his thumb hard against me, fingers spread as if to encompass me, fingertips pressing lightly against my ass.
    His mouth was partly open, his eyes still studying me.
    I kissed him, delicate butterfly kisses on the lips, brief brushings of the tongue and then pulling away.
    He started to roll his hand from side to side. The seam of my jeans flipped across my clit with each roll, sending crazy new sensations dashing through me.
    I wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this, but I couldn’t tell if I was going to climax or pass out with the intensity...
    Then I