I can’t resist. I dip my head and lick. Not for her, for myself. I swirl a meandering path through the very centre of her, recalling the scents and tastes that left me intoxicated last week. She opens herself up to me even further and moans, and it’s long and low and enraptured. I pull away and look up at her. ‘No. This isn’t for you. It’s for me. You don’t get to make a sound. I’ve bought your body for my enjoyment. Got it?’ Her eyelids flutter closed for a second before she grits out a pained, ‘Sorry, sir.’
