None at all erased any misgivings that might have still lingered about him being more than ten years younger than her. Though it had already reached well past that point by now, she was at the point that if she didn't have him, tonight, that the need and lust, and all else he caused in her, might just do her in. He was trouble. And she loved it. That growl! She grunted shortly after it, she wasn't sure she could get anymore aroused than she was at that moment, but goddamn.
Maryanne wasn't ashamed that she ground herself against him, not in the slightest. It urged her to straighten up, one hand went from around him to settle on the soft felt of the table behind her. It helped her raise up when he lifted her to remove the bothersome panties.
With much reluctance she eased her legs from around him. She had been about to scoot back just a little on the table's edge, when she felt the brush of his fingers. She knew she was drenched long before her panties were touched. She dared look down between them, the sight of his fingers gliding over the slick flesh was almost enough to send her over the edge right then. She shuddered hard, her nails scraping against the felt behind her. "Fuck..." She whispered. She was never going to be able to associate his fingers with writing ever again.
The pants had to go. Her other hand, which had loosely worked its way around to his side, moved with more of a purpose. Catching her tongue between her teeth, she tried to unbutton another button. How many did he have? Why had she not taken notice before now? Or if she had, why wasn't the information coming through...