[ a look on her face like she can't believe she has the fastidious Henry Creel aching for a taste. her entire body prickles with desire almost to excess, and she has to shiver to be rid of it, only for it to begin to build again. she pictures, for an instant, the pressured slide of his tongue through her folds, his breath warming her, his gaze intense and darkened by the pleasure of it, the taboo of it.
his eyes are keen enough to cut, sometimes. she's thought this before. and how blue...
yes, she wants him to look at her that way. to—... ]
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his eyes are keen enough to cut, sometimes. she's thought this before. and how blue...
yes, she wants him to look at her that way. to—... ]
...