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against her sides as before, and she was vaguely aware that he meant her to savor every single nuance. She wouldn't be allowed to rush him.
       The lightest touch of his fingers over her clit and she was shuddering as he teased her with only the possibility of an orgasm—and she was still fully clothed. Ever so slowly, his hand rubbed over her, finally settling with her pussy cupped in his palm. The added heat was almost unbearable. She tried to push herself against him, rubbing herself cat-like into his hand, but he chuckled again and pushed her body tighter into his, refusing her the freedom to pleasure herself with his hand.
       "Please…" Gina hardly recognized her own voice, her plea half lost in the moan he wrung from her lips as a single finger slowly rubbed over the entrance to her pussy.
       "Please what?" he whispered, his fingers starting to explore a little more thoroughly, apparently oblivious to her squirming.
       Gina couldn't think, couldn't process a single logical thought. All she knew was that the man behind her seemed intent on giving her the sort of orgasm she'd only dreamed about. Her entire world had been reduced to his hands and what he was doing to her.
       She arched against him again, silently begging, so aroused by the sound of her own breathless little whimpers she couldn't even imagine asking for what she wanted. Surely he knew. He must have known what she wanted—needed—and was purposely holding back. She moaned again, rubbing her ass against his crotch as much as he'd allow, desperate for the orgasm he was keeping just out of her reach.
       Finally, one hand moved up over her breasts, the other still firmly locked over her pussy. She flinched as he pinched a nipple, his thumb then running a soothing circle over it until she was again thrusting her breasts towards his hand.
       Disappointment rushed through her as his hand kept moving but before she could do more than whimper a protest, she felt his fingers fumbling with the drawstring of her peasant blouse. As soon as he'd loosened it, he drew it over her head, the cooler air instantly pebbling her nipples impossibly harder. It was as if he'd finally run out of patience and, apart from a single fluttering caress, his hand went straight to her neck, pushing her further forward until he could snap the catch on her bra and thread it over her arms.
       The same hand went immediately to her skirt, drawing it up over her knees and reaching down to grasp her panties. Within seconds, he'd folded her over his arm, half stood to pull down the skirt and underwear, then rearranged her on the sofa. She was kneeling almost the same way, bent over the arm of the chair with her back to his chest, only this time he nudged her knees further apart, pushing his thigh between them until her legs were spread as far as
    possible.
       Naked in front of him, her breasts and pussy exposed, her arms again trapped by her sides, she was vulnerable—and aroused. Unbelievably aroused. Gina could smell her own juices, could feel them trickling through her curls and running slowly down her thigh.
       She looked down at herself, almost dismayed by her wanton behavior, and saw her nipples hard and dark against the creamy white of her skin. His hands were resting on her stomach, bluntly masculine against her feminine softness. As she watched, his thumbs started to move with a slow circling movement that soothed even as it aroused. Without thought, she leant her shoulders back into his chest, watching the way her nipples thrust proudly forward, begging for the attention of his fingers.
       As her back brushed against his shirt the buttons dug into her skin and she realized that, although he'd stripped her naked, he was still fully dressed. Her eyes snapped shut, she felt her cheeks flame in embarrassment and his fingers simultaneously moved up to her breasts.
       Any thought of modesty went out the window as she preened under his touch,