Adrianna's Undies by Lacey Alexander Read Free Book Online Page A

down there—his hand, his hard cock. She needed more than just something stroking through her folds—she needed something in her deep .
    She watched as Tristan made sensual work of eating the fruit—he curled his tongue around it in a way that made her imagine the strawberry was a huge clitoris. Then he finally took a slow, thoughtful bite, chewing carefully, closing his eyes, and she envisioned the salty moisture of her pussy mingling with the sweet, natural juices of the strawberry in his mouth as he swallowed.
    She only realized that she’d automatically kept her legs wide apart when Tristan reached down to rake yet another strawberry through her open flesh. Slow again, but deeper this time, thorough, as if trying to soak up the moisture from every crevice. She sighed sharply at the sensation and waited, ready to watch him eat it—only to have him lift it to her mouth this time instead.
    The move surprised her so much her heart lurched in her chest, but she didn’t hesitate to part her lips and let him slip the strawberry inside. He kept hold of the green stem as she bit into the fruit and felt the juices surge in her mouth. And—oh God—she tasted it, really tasted it. Just like she’d imagined—her wetness blended with the flavor of the strawberry yet was distinctly discernible, salty, sexual, female.
    “Aren’t you delicious?” Tristan asked, his eyes glimmering wickedly.
    Adrianna enjoyed other women but frankly had never found the taste of pussy juices as appealing as a man’s come. And yet, for some reason, she heard herself answer softly, “Yes,” because the whole situation was so hot, because tasting what he tasted somehow made it good, and because he wanted her to like the taste of herself.
    Her chest constricted at the realization. What he wanted she suddenly wanted too. Just because he wanted it.
    “Good girl,” he told her. “Now eat some more fondue, but keep your legs spread, as far apart as you can.”
    “All right.” She’d answered without thought or hesitation, every cell in her body plunging downward into a deeper, more profound sort of arousal. Maybe this was what came from being turned-on over and over again for a couple of hours without acting on it—she wasn’t sure because she was a woman accustomed to acting on her desires, even if only by herself, with her sex toys or her fingers.
    Whatever the reason, though, in this moment, she no longer cared about winning the submission game—she simply followed what her body told her.
    And what her body told her was that it felt good, naughty, dirty, to sit there with her legs spread so wide apart under the table in a fancy restaurant, the cool air whooshing over her damp cunt. Her body told her that the very act of eating—another marshmallow dipped in chocolate, then a chunk of pineapple—had become an utterly sensual act. The very feel of taking the gooey chocolate into her mouth, the warmth of it spreading down her throat, inside her body, added to her excitement. Her body told her everything felt good right now, everything —every touch of her hand to the smooth, cool wineglass, the way her fingers curled about the fondue skewer, the way her breasts heaved of their own accord against the corsetry beneath her dress.
    “Turn your body just a little,” Tristan said then, “to let those guys see your pussy.”
    The four men at the other table. He’d noticed them too. And though she’d gotten caught up in what was happening at her table, a quick glance revealed that they were indeed watching—discreetly but certainly.
    Again, she didn’t hesitate. She followed Tristan’s command without thought, without surprise, without question. She shifted her ass on the black leather booth to turn toward them in a way that surely put her cunt on display, even trapped as it was in a “frame” of leather. It pulsed with the move and her breasts tingled hotly.
    “Good girl. Now look at them,” Tristan said.
    A woman less sexually