by Jezelle
He glanced up meet her eyes. “Do you remember our senior prom?”
“I still have nightmares about it.” She gave a mock shudder. In a democratic vote by their class—a vote she was still convinced Jackson had somehow rigged, though he’d never admit it—he and she, captain of the football team and head cheerleader, had been elected king and queen of the prom.
“It wasn’t that bad.” A sudden quick thrust drove his dick in deeper.
Her breath caught on a gasp. “Yes, it was. After the crowning ceremony we had to slow dance—just the two of us with everyone watching—and you kept putting your hands on my tits and ass.”
“Yeah.” His mouth curled up at one corner into the crooked grin he saved for her and her alone. “We danced to this song, ‘Play With Fire.’ And I was so hard by the end of it, I barely made it off the dance floor without limping.”
“It served you right for groping me in front of the entire senior class.”
“There’s no one watching now.” His hand smoothed up her side, caressed her in one sweep from thigh to breast. “Ever since that night, I’ve wondered what it would be like loving you to this song. How about it, sweetheart? Shall we play with some fire?”
“As combustible as you and I are, Jackson Storm, I thought we already were.”
“Ah, but I have a feeling things will be getting a whole lot hotter from here on out.”
Mmm…he was probably right.
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