“It won’t be in the way of my tongue.”
Thrilled by the need in his voice, I say, “That’s very dirty, sir. And very hot.”
“I love the way you taste. A little cotton plug won’t stop me from putting my mouth on you.”
We stop at the edge of the bed. He pulls off the jacket I’m wearing and tosses it aside. My shirt follows. He strips me out of the rest of my clothes and pushes me to a sitting position on the lovely white silk duvet.
Unlike his bachelor pad, this home is done entirely in shades of white and champagne, with touches of aqua and blush in the artwork and accessories. All the fixtures and finishes are in subtle, burnished gold. It’s a very beachy house, and a feminine one.
Maybe Martha Stewart needed a quick extra dozen million or two.
Declan takes my chin firmly in his hand. S
