12. Hostage Of The Mysterious Hunk
"Ouch." She suddenly whimpered when she felt his knee between her thighs.
"Concentrate and spread those legs for me like a good girl." His baritone voice croaked as his arousal burned him deep, stretching his muscles.
This little reporter's waist was so small, similar to a rubber band, that he could stretch and snap in one go, and her soft ass, merde! - f**k- would be the death of him, he had to admit.
Safe for the iota of Alpha male pride in him, he'd have disposed of all this punishment saga and f****d her from behind till she zonked out.
"You want to s***k me there?" She asked, but it didn't sound like a question, more like an invitation because of how she subtly rocked her hips.
Wicked girl, what was she doing this for? A tempting
