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Two Men

“Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.” And he does. In a suit that no doubt costs more than my dress, he looks every bit the successful executive he is. Short, orderly hair. Clean-shaven chin. Those intense eyes staring out of a strong face. “Is the car here?”

“It’s downstairs. But it can wait.” He runs a hand up my knee, sliding the material of the cocktail dress up.

I wait, my breath becoming shallow, my concentration focused on the path of his fingers as they travel higher, taking their time, the tickle of rough skin against soft flesh. He leans over, brushing a quick kiss over my lips and then moves lower, soft kisses making the path down the line of my jaw, whispers against my neck, and deepening in touch when they reach my collarbone. His hand caresses my thigh, the brush of his thumb moving higher until it is just breaths from my sex. I groan, sliding my hips forward, but his hand stops me, gripping my thigh and holding me still. “Not yet. Let me enjoy you for a moment
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