The bourbons I’ve downed have loosened my muscles and my mind. I’m not intoxicated, but relaxed enough to forget any worries—to give very little s**t about anything. I pull at my tie as her foreplay show continues, content to watch unhurried, to let this anticipation build.
But then she turns around.
Her dark hair fans out, and I’m caught in those hazel f*****g eyes. Large, almond-shaped eyes that practically glow with hunger.
She’s not just dancing in front of me, she’s dancing for me.
Her hands skim down her sides slowly, cradling her hips, squeezing. But it’s my hands she’s imagining, my grip she’s feeling. Sofia’s full lips are parted, breathing heavy, the gloss of moisture beading on her upper lip.
And I want to lick it off.
But that’ll just be the start—devouring that mouth—bef
