Lita slipped her hand along the hem of her shirt, slipping it up under the soft cotton and along her skin. She danced her fingertips along her ribcage as Diarmid lit another match and marveled in the way her breath sucked in with just the easy movement he made.
He was sexy and bold as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he watched.
“Touch yourself, babe,” he repeated his command as the tiny flame flickered in his large hands.
“Someone might see,” she whispered back. It was broad daylight, not even four in the afternoon, and they were on a balcony. Laughter and music were everywhere around them yet nowhere near them.
“You want to be bold and dangerous?” he pushed her, “slide your hands up higher and touch your breasts. I want to see you stroke your n*****s. Make them hard for
