Tryson's arms had been everywhere—stroking, palming, warming. Diane arched into his fingers like a cat, as his fingers trailed on her skin like cold comets that left her tingling, gasping for more. When he brushed her n*****s with the pads of his thumbs she gasped.
When his fingers dug into her hips as he pulled her closer, a tiny cry broke in her throat when they came together and she may want to sense him there, ready, trying her.
He dropped his head to open his mouth on her throat, a tiny growl puttering in his chest, vibrating towards her n*****s. Shivering with the pure bliss of it all, Diane dropped her head lower back and reached up to claw a hand into his hair and hold him towards her.
Then his enamel grazed the wire of her neck and her complete physique jangled with the bolt
