‘I bought this.’ I trace an exploratory trail through her folds with one finger, front to back, and she shivers again. ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘I own this’—I press a finger to her clit—‘and this’—I probe lightly at an entrance so slippery I could fall down it forever—‘and this’—I tap the ring of muscle further back. ‘Yes, sir.’ It comes out as a sigh.
