Okay, that had Xanthippe's brain fritzing out for a second. But, like, in a good way. In the best way. In a suddenly wanting to writhe all over his lap and against that particular hardness kind of way.

She didn't quite go as far as writhing, but she definitely made sure to shift a little, with a purpose - which was to get some friction between their hips. It was more rubbing than writhing. Totally different. Really.

(Her skinny jeans did not feel skinny enough, all of a sudden.)

Semantics aside, she did it right enough that she finally had to slip away from his mouth for a gasp of air. "Oh, my God."