Diana felt it at once. Instead of pulling away, she shifted her hips in a small, deliberate roll, grinding the soft flesh of her backside a
long the hard ridge beneath the black dress. The friction drew a low hiss from my throat. She felt the way my cock twitched against her and let out a soft, breathy little laugh.
She looked down at me through half-lidded eyes, one hand resting lightly on my chest, the other braced on the couch for balance. The black midi dress had ridden even higher from the movement, exposing more of her smooth thighs.
"Were you delayed by some vixen, weren't you?" she murmured, rolling her hips again — slower this time, more deliberately — so that the thick shape of my cock dragged right between her cheeks.
"You're already this hard the moment you sit me on your lap… Someone must have gotten you all worked up before you came back to me."
