aren’t rushing.” That much he’d remembered.
“No. We’re not.” She stole the flute, drained the remainder of the champagne and set it aside. Then she pushed him onto the couch. “But we’re not delaying, either.”
She clicked off the lamp and straddled him, her breasts between them. He cupped his hands over her bra, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples until the hard nubs beaded beneath the fabric.
She gasped one word. “Yes.”
“Does it hurt good, love?”
“So good,” she agreed.
He unclasped the bra, freeing those bountiful orbs to the trusted homes of his palms. He took one nipple on his tongue and sucked hard, and she cried out—a sharp, high shout of pleasure.
When she wiggled her ass on his lap, his hips arched to find her—his cock eager to reach her warm, wet heat, his promises not to rush be damned.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
