Ad copy

"We're both drunk. And your first time… Fuck, Adison… Your first time shouldn't be because I'm jealous and possessive and completely out of control." "What if that's exactly what I want?" "Adison," His voice cracked. "What are you—" "Showing you what I want." Third button. Fourth. "Since apparently words aren't working." The shirt fell open. Burgundy lace underneath—that bra I'd packed thinking I'd never have reason to wear it. Guess I'd been wrong about that. His eyes went dark. Pupils blown wide. Breath coming faster. I trailed my fingers down my stomach. Slid them under the hem of my skirt, and watched his control fracture in real-time. I let my nails scrape lightly over my skin, teasing, like I was just stretching—but we both knew better. My skirt was already bunched up around my thighs, and I caught the exact moment Jake’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. His veins popping like he was trying to strangle the damn thing instead of driving it. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, voice rough like gravel scraped raw. His jaw clenched, eyes darting to me for a split second before focusing back on the road. “You’re killing me…” “Good,” I purred, sliding my hand lower, between my legs. “Maybe you deserve it.” My thighs parted just enough to give him a glimpse, the barest flash of my lace panties, damp and clinging to me. He groaned, a sound so fucking primal it sent a shiver down my spine. I let my thighs fall open completely and my fingers dipped beneath the lace, brushing against my slick folds. I gasped softly, just loud enough for him to hear, and watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “Princess…” he hissed, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon.