He reaches out and cups my breasts through the lace of my bra. His hands are huge. They swallow me up. He squeezes, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to let me know he owns this space now. I gasp, my back arching off the leather as his thumbs find my n*****s through the fabric. They are already hard, peaking into tight points that ache for more than just a touch.
"You like that, Daniella?" Miles asks. He leans down, his face inches from mine. I can smell the expensive scotch on his breath, mixed with the scent of a man who knows exactly what he wants. "You like being handled?"
"Yes," I breathe. The word is messy, broken. I can’t even look him in the eye. I’m staring at the knot of his silk tie, my hands reaching out to grip his forearms. He’s like iron.
Jessica moves then. She sl
