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A dot of chocolate decorates his digit, but instead of wiping it off like a sane person, his lips suction around his thumb, and he sucks it with a skilled mouth. Oh my God. Is thumb sucking café appropriate?
as I pull her hair, subdue her, fuck her like the good girl I know she is.
People talk with their hands all the time, Faye. It’s called ASL.
My hand flounders around for the nearest napkin, but I don’t even make contact before Kit’s mouth is on
my neck, licking a clean stripe through the sticky liquid. One corded arm is braced against the wall, right next to my head, and the other is working the strap of my top down my shoulder.
His lips move down my throat to the shelf of my collarbone. I’m pretty sure there’s barely any juice there.
“Stop talking.” He sucks on my collarbone, flicking his tongue over the taut flesh, and my back arches off the headboard, inadvertently giving him a face full of my now-bare chest.
For the past ten minutes, Kit’s kept me blindfolded, and not in the way I like.
“There’s my good girl. Look at you, so eager for my cock. You want me to fuck your mouth so hard that your jaw locks?”
“I know that, twat waffle. Why was it in the penalty box?”
