I could feel how wet the crotch of her shorts was, and I slid my hand over her pussy, feeling just the barest hint of wet hair. She was wet and slick....I slid my fingers over her now bare pussy, pushing a finger inside her, this causing a catch in her breath.She had buried her face in the top of my head as I sucked at her nipples and played with her pussy to muffle her whimpers and moans the best she could. I don’t think either of us were much concerned about being caught now; we were connected. The pate and the salmon were both fabulous. Considering that she had finagled her way into the date, he wrested back control of the evening with aplomb, saving face entirely and embracing the tender mood. Damn, she really was starting to like him again. How dangerous.Fitting a jigsaw, that was her experience of the evening. Piecing together the real Eric Lehane. What was left of the nice guy she’d met weeks before? How much of the bastard was real? Friday night’s penitence and Saturday’s. More

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