“Let me taste you again,” he says, his voice rough. “Before we go downstairs.” My throat goes tight. “You’ll mess up my hair. And my makeup,” I say, grasping at any straw I can. Everything in me wants to say yes, but still I hesitate. “I promise I won’t,” he says, stepping closer, his mouth brushing my ear. “You’ll just sit there like a queen while I worship you from my knees.”
