Free The Three Rs by Ashe Barker Page B

responds to that signal, and I find I can slip my tongue between his lips. He tastes quite, quite wonderful, of coffee and wine, and sweet lust.
    I can’t claim, genuinely, to have tasted lust previously, but I’m pretty certain this is it. I dip my tongue farther into his mouth, exploring his teeth, tangling with his tongue, loving the way his lips have opened and are now sweeping sensuously across mine as he joins in the kiss. I’m combing my fingers through the soft waves of his hair, and suddenly I’m turning toward him, standing briefly, then straddling him as I’m gripped by a desire to get closer. My loose fitting calf-length skirt is bunched around my knees now, and as I shift forward I can plainly feel his erection under me. He’s as aroused as I am, it seems. He drops his hands from my waist, but only to grasp the soft woolen fabric of my skirt and tug it backwards from under me, gathering it at the back of my waist. Now, only my underwear and his jeans separate us, and my pussy is rubbing against his solid length. I’m rocking against him, loving the friction and desperate for more. I want him to…what?
    Touch me? Yes. Undress me? Yes, that too. Fuck me? Oh, please…
    “Ready now, love?”
    He’s pulled his lips fractionally back from mine, just enough to be able to murmur the words. I can only groan and nod, before laying my forehead against his. In a few moments I’ve gone from a blushing, more-or-less innocent girl to a voracious sex kitten. And he’s hardly laid a hand on me yet, nor anything else.
    “Does the skirt stay?” He asks the question softly.
    I lift my head, and he raises his hands to now frame my face. I shrug, not sure what the protocol here might be.
    He smiles again, a smile of reassurance and approval, and I feel a serious urge to kiss him all over again. “I’ll want you to lose the underwear, but if you prefer, you can just lean over the table and lift your skirt for me. For now. It all comes off later, but by then you’ll be feeling a lot less inhibited. I promise.”
    “I-I think I’ll keep the skirt, if that’s all right. For now.”
    “Perfect. And so sexy when you lift it up to bare your gorgeous bottom for me. Am I drooling?”
    I smile back, his mix of sensuality and humor just what I need. “No, not drooling. But I can tell you’re pleased to see me.”
    I wriggle on his lap, and he closes his eyes in mock pain. “Have a care, sweetheart. You really don’t want me to lose my train of thought here.”
    He stands, effortlessly lifting me to my feet too. His hand is outstretched, waiting for something. I’m puzzled, but he soon sets me straight.
    “Your knickers, please.”
    “Ah, right. Of course.” I quickly reach under my skirt and tug them down, before stepping out of them. I place them in his hand, pleased that I had the foresight to wear a pretty, lacy pair today. And my bra matches—how’s that for planning? Or dumb luck?
    He nods his approval—whether at my choice of underwear or my ready compliance I’m not entirely sure—and crumples my panties before shoving them into his jeans pocket. “Ask me for them later. If you remember. Or maybe you’ll let me keep them, as a souvenir?”
    In this moment I think I’d have agreed to let him keep my entire wardrobe, such as it is. He gestures with his head toward the table behind him, moving to one side to allow me to step forward.
    “Bend over, lean on the table. If it’s more comfortable, you can fold your arms and lay your head on them. Or you can reach across and grip the opposite side. Just whatever feels best for you. And when you’re happy, I’d like you to reach down and lift your skirt up around your waist, please.”
    I feel my courage start to desert me as the moment of truth looms. It’s now then. Or never. He sees my hesitation.
    “Take your time, love. Or if you don’t want to do this, that’s fine too. But you’ve got as far as letting me have your panties, seems a shame to stop