Without another word, The Suit’s hand was suddenly on her thigh, running up the back of her leg, and under her skirt to cup her ass. One eyebrow rose appreciatively as he realized how little fabric there was to contend with. His finger traced the top string of her thong, and then edged inside the scant fabric and ran down the crack between the cheeks of her buttocks with just the lightest of touches. Abby felt herself panting for breath, powerless to speak, powerless to do anything more than just keep herself from collapsing in a puddle on the floor. His fingers reached between her legs from behind to brush the outside of her pussy lips. Once, twice, he swept over her skin, drawing an involuntary moan from her lips. On his next, he slid a finger between her lips to dip ever so slightly into her opening. Then he pulled his hand away, and held his fingers up in front of her, so she could see the glistening moisture on their tips.
“Nowhere close to done,” he repeated, “but definitely ready.”
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Private Engagement Page 21