67. Michael

MICHAEL

A lice sets her empty glass down and slowly slides forward on her seat.

My dick hasn’t gotten any softer since I got into the hot tub, and now, as she nears, it’s getting impossibly harder.

Fingertips brush against my knees. “Will you do me a favor?”

Her voice is husky, and it sends a shiver down my spine. “Anything you want.”

She runs her fingers up my thighs, stopping halfway. “Will you sit up on the edge?”

My stomach muscles clench. “Why?”

She drops her gaze to my lap, even though my arousal is hidden in the water.

“Because I’d like to suck your cock.” She lifts her eyes back up to mine. “Please.”