“You sing?” “Not good.” “That’s not possible.” I massage her breasts, savouring the melody of her delicate moans. “Every sound you make is like music to my ears. Do you know that? It’s like you’re singing just for me, and it’s so fucking beautiful, Alina jaan.” My lips graze the skin behind her earlobe, forcing the soft dust of hair on the nape of her neck to rise. “Keep singing for me, sweetheart. Let me hear every pretty note.”
