I bit my lip as she wiggled and slithered around on the bed. She was going to drive me fucking bonkers. Her moans had me believing in angels.
Forcing myself to keep the pressure light, correct, was the worst lesson in self-control I'd had in at least a decade. Her pelvis dipped low and bumped up as I tried to keep being her friend.
Think of Grams. Think of Grams. Think of Grams.
Treat her like a princess. Grams' sweet voice in my head helped clear the lust that was as thick as the lotion I was using on Willow. Sweet fuck, let this be over soon.
Her left leg pushed into my hip.
Shit. Her other leg. Not to mention the backs of her legs. I was going to implode. Or die. Can someone die from blue balls? Is that a thing?