I would have gasped when he tore my underwear to one side and plunged his fingers into the molten wet heat of my core, but his hand closed around my windpipe, stealing my ability to breathe. Like some dark-haired, foreboding fallen angel, Kingfisher purred as he plunged his fingers up inside me. “My, my. So worked up already? You’re slick as hell. What do you taste like, mm? Are you going to scream for me like a good girl when I have you ride my face?” “Y-ye—” It was no good. I couldn’t speak. My head was spinning, both from lack of blood and from the powerful need that rocked me to my core. I
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