“Of course not,” she answered back. “You must figure that I am a w***e, then so I am. I will not deny that.”
“But what breed of w***e are you? That is the real question.”
“Whores are whores, there are no distinctions between them.”
“That is where you are wrong.” Titus’ black eyes glowed like coals in an old, hot fire. Sweat poured off his face. His body pulsed alive and vital; his crotch pushed down against the woman’s belly burning with hunger. His c**k raged. But that was how he loved to play his life, with a hard erection between his legs. “You, slut, have a pedigree. And you will tell me what it is.”
“If I had a pedigree, which I do not, I would not say so. Go on about your game.”
“Oh, you are woman after my heart, Jena—or whatever your name really is. Let’s just see how you suff
