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Smut
“
Desmond, slow down!” I yelped, panic spiking in my chest.
He didn’t even acknowledge me. Instead, he accelerated, the engine’s roar rising into a feral growl as my dress whipped up to my knees, exposing my thighs to the cold morning air.
“It’s strange…” his deep voice rumbled against my back, amusement lacing each word. “A couple days ago, in your dreams, you were screaming, ‘Desmond, faster… more… more… yes… yes… harder, harder!
”
― Where the Dark Knelt
― Where the Dark Knelt
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