“There it is,” he coos, taking my jaw in his hand, ensuring I look directly into the eyes of his mask. “Now tell me. If I were to slip my hand between your thighs right now, how wet would you be for me?” My abdomen clenches at the thought. The truth is, I’m more wet now than I’ve ever been in my life. “Very,” I whisper. “Fuck,” he grunts, tightening his grip on my face, squishing my cheeks. “Even through this mask I can already smell how sweet you are. I want a taste.”
