I moaned again when his tongue dwelled deeper in my mouth and I gasped. My hand went up to his chest and slowly to his neck.
With one hand still in my hair, he slid down his hand into the slit of my dress, touching my inner thigh, and I parted my legs for him.
He brushed his hand on my panty and applied the barest of pressure, making me squirm in the place. But as soon as the touch came, it was gone.
I made an unsatisfied noise in my throat.
We were both breathless when we broke the kiss.
My heart sank when he took two steps back thinking that maybe it was a mistake and now he was regretting it.
“Do you like this dress?” he asked me.
“What?” I was confused.
“Do you like this dress or not?” he asked again, a picture of composure.
“You are asking me this now when you were done fu*ki
