Olivia

His fingers traced the lace, teasing but never quite touching where I needed him most. I squirmed beneath him, desperate for more contact.

"Please," I whispered. "Touch me."

"Where?" His fingers continued their maddening journey along the edge of my thong. "Here?" He brushed across my hip bone. "Or maybe here?" His hand moved to my inner thigh.

"You know where," I groaned in frustration.

"I want to hear you say it," he demanded, his ...