Very handsy

The big guy's hands leave my chest, and I feel the sudden absence of his warmth. He takes a step back, folding his arms, a satisfied grin on his face as he watches. The bachelor's hands replace his, sliding up my ribs, thumbs tracing the undersides of my breasts before cupping them fully. His grip is different — more hesitant, reverent almost, like he can't quite believe he's allowed to touch.

I look down at him through half-lidded eyes, feeling the slow drag of his thumbs across my nipples. The latex strap is still loose, hanging off my shoulders, doing nothing to cover me. The room has gone quiet except for the music, everyone watching like it's the main event.

"Careful," I murmur, my voice low, breathy. "You're gonna make me think you've been thinking about this since you picked that outfit."

I shift my hips against him, slow and deliberate, letting the latex slide against his jeans. His breath hitches, and I feel his fingers tighten. The muscular guy behind me lets out a low chuckle, arms still crossed, watching the show he's set up.

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