She cried out into his kiss, her hands clawing his shoulders, adrift now in a pleasure that threatened to consume her. In her sexual lifetime she had never known anything like it. Had never tasted such a dark kiss, one that warned her he had no intention of making allowances for sensual inexperience. He was hungry. Needy. And she was the meal he craved.
Lora LeighDo you know, every time I've seen you you've been like the Grim Reaper of goodwill and cheer. You should find another profession.
Lora LeighSweetheart, all men are animals. Feed us, pet us, and use a firm hand, and we'll worship at your feet.
Lora Leigh