Lyla

I barely remembered the drive to the hotel in town—too busy focusing on the hand between my legs rubbing me under my dress, my panties pulled to the side, and Rashid’s fingers sliding in and out of me at an agonizing pace.

He drove me wild with every little piece of me that he touched, making my legs quake while he starved off the impending orgasm. I was drenched by the time we pulled into the parking lot, already so close to ...