“Shouldn’t you be inside? The ball is in your honor, after all,” Wichard said, taking a seat next to Dakota on a garden bench.
“I never thought I would hear the chirping sound of crickets in person,” Dakota said.
“They drive me nuts,” Wichard said and casually slipped a hand onto her thigh where her dress fell open at the slit.
“What are you doing?” Dakota asked, but does not stop him.
“I can smell your arousal a mile away. Do you want me to take care of it?” Wichard said and slipped his fingers against the fabric of her j-string feeling her wetness through it. “Who in their right mind left you so wet?” Wichard whispered into her ear.
“Who do you think?” Dakota moaned.
“His lost,” Wichard said and kissed her in her neck.
“Stop,” Dakota moaned in pleasure, but Wichard ignored her and
