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| They could get disbarred for this. When dealing with a crusty old judge, that's a distinct possibility. But Jasmine and Mike can't stop themselves. They're in too deep. And nothing as minor as serving as opposing counsel in front of that judge matters! |
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| "Ooooh." Gold flecks danced in her eyes, super-natural jewels on their bed of thick, dark velvet. "My God, Mike. What are you trying to..." "I thought you knew." A quick repetition of the maneuver brought much the same response as before. From her. Another closing and opening, coupled with a little bit of the thrusting experience had taught no woman could truly resist, not for very long, and Jasmine misted again. She misted rigorously, her gasp sharper this time and the ensuing groan deeper and more pronounced. The dancing motes of gold in her eyes came even more magically alive as she did. Magically more frantic. Of course, her reaction seemed nothing when compared with his. Unable to suppress it an instant longer, Mike groaned at last. It was a low and rolling sound, indicative of rising stress in a body grown too tight, a cock and balls grown so blissfully and unbelievably tight and heavy that not groaning was no longer a viable option. He'd thought to do it again. Thought to move the imprisoned digits inside her. But Jasmine took action of her own. Her internal misting grew stronger still. More self-absorbed and far more absorbing. And with it came a new and visceral tingling in parts of Mike's anatomy that in the same instant began to demand their fair share of that heavenly misting. Parts that had never, in all his life or his memory, been quite so demanding before. When Jasmine groaned again, the sound not unlike the deep-throated and rumbling purr of a lioness about to charge, she made her next move. Releasing the tangled grip she'd held on his shirt front and the matting of hairs beneath, the hairs at the tenderest, most easily damaged and wounded center of his chest, she left him. Forced him to support her wholly and entirely with his hands and the minimal aid of the ledge upon which he'd balanced her. Slipping her hands down and down, then down again even more, she didn't stop until they came to rest where they'd been before he'd been witless enough to distract her and turn her attentions elsewhere. Small and cool, her hands came to rest only when they found the one place where they could do the most damage. The most unutterably irreparable kind of damage. Mike's poor, unprepared cock literally screamed when her fingertips brushed snowy-soothing relief across its parched, ravenous length. But if it was relief, and he instantly had all the doubts in the world that it truly could be, it was soothing and a relief for only a second. No more. The cooling relief of Jasmine's touch was in truth no relief at all. Because in the instant after it cooled, in the instant after softness first sizzled against distressed flesh that had been so certain it would never know softness or ease of any kind again, the sizzling really began. |
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