Mr. President 2(138)

“As long as it doesn’t involve yoga,” he tells me, that grin still dancing on his lips. “You look like the kind of girl who’d do yoga.” I blush at his words, even though there’s barely a hint of wickedness to them. Yet, I can’t stop myself from thinking that he’s imagining me in tight yoga pants and bending over…

“I do yoga, yeah,” I grin back at him. “But that’s not what I have in mind right now…”

“A special kind of yoga then?” he smirks, fully committed to the verbal spar I’ve pulled us both into.

“A very special kind of yoga,” I continue, feeling more and more comfortable with this back-and-forth conversation. It’s just words, right? Of course, the moment this thought goes through my head, he gets up from his stool and leans into me.#p#分页标题#e#

“Show me,” he whispers into my ear, placing one hand on top of my knee and slowly sliding his fingers underneath the hemline of my dress. I gasp and almost stop breathing as, with his eyes still locked on mine, he runs his fingers all the way up my leg, only stopping when he finds my soaked thong.

“Yes,” that’s all I manage to say, suddenly feeling dizzy. What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t think I have ever felt this horny in my entire life! When he grabs me by the hand, it feels as if I’m floating; I get up from the stool and let him guide me. He walks through the crowded bar easily, everyone letting him through, and I follow after him in a daze. He goes all the way to the restroom and, stopping in front of the double doors, he looks me in the eye, mischievousness all over his face.

“Feeling adventurous?” he asks me, and I don’t even need to think of an answer.

“More than ever,” I respond, squeezing his hand in mine and walking past him toward the ladies restroom. I step inside, look around and, confident that the place is empty, I pull him in. Moving quickly, I step inside one of the stalls and, still pulling on him, slam the door shut and turn to face him. I’m breathing so hard my lungs might just collapse anytime now, and my heart feels more and more like dynamite about to go off.

Smiling, he tucks a stray lock of hair over my ear and, lust burning in his eyes, takes one step toward me. Not wasting any time, he pushes me back against the wall, his hands on my hips. With his body pressed against mine, he leans and lays his lips on mine. My eyelids droop as I feel the touch of his mouth, and a gentle warmness spreads all over my body.

“I never… I never did anything like this,” I pant, pulling back from his kiss and looking into his eyes. It’s true; I've never done anything quite like this. Sure, I’m not an innocent maiden saving herself for marriage, but I have never been with a man after only five minutes and half a drink.

“I know,” he tells me with a wicked grin. The look in his eyes tells me that he figured me out the moment he saw me for the first time, and that makes me want him even more. Placing both my hands on his face, I pull him into me and we kiss again; I push my tongue against his lips and, forcing them to part, I slide it inside his mouth. As we kiss, our tongues locked into a frenzied embrace, his hands go around my waist and he squeezes my ass gently.

I grow wetter with each passing second, the closeness of his body shutting out all rational thoughts and leaving only the steady pulse of desire. I take my hands to his waist and, grabbing at his shirt, I pull and untuck it. Going straight for the collar of his shirt, my eager fingers get to work and I start to unbutton it, baring his chest. I feel the hard edges of his muscles against my fingers as I go, and my heart tightens up inside my chest; he’s more ripped than guys far younger than him. Trust me, I know: I’ve dated jocks and college athletes, and all of them pale in comparison to the man in front of me.

“Like what you see?” he whispers against my ear, his long fingers hooking themselves on the hem of my dress. Pursing my lips, I look down at his chest and nod. His pectorals are so defined they look like something out of a magazine cover, and they lead the way to a perfect wall of abs… And when I say perfect, I really mean it. Forget about a six-pack, Mason has eight perfect squares of muscle covering his stomach.

“I like it… I like it a lot,” I purr, grabbing at his belt and unbuckling it. “But I want to see more…”

“You can see everything… But I want the same.” With that, he hikes the dress up to my waist and cups my bare ass cheeks. He squeezes them harshly and then, with a growl, he lets go and takes both his hands to my shoulders. Moving fast, he pulls both straps down my arms at the same time, pushing the fabric of the dress down to my waist and baring my bra.#p#分页标题#e#