With one hand, he holds me up, toned arm flexing in a riveting display of masculine strength. Forget the spectacular marble lines of Michelangelo’s David. Hayden Owens is the perfect depiction of male beauty. My train of admiration derails, though, as he palms my breast. Our lips meet again, and he toys with my nipple, pulling an aching sweetness from deep inside me like there’s a cord connected to my center. He shifts his hips, sliding his cock through my wetness, and I moan when his scorching hardness rubs against my clit. Molten heat swirls inside me.
