Hannah Cunningham

67%
Flag icon
She cries out when my teeth sink into the delicate skin of her inner thigh. Her spine arches off the bed. I keep her down with a hand between her breasts. “No, you take it,” I breathe. “You wanted it, little whore, you take it.” She moans, whimpering. I slap the curve of her ass. “What do you call me?” Her lips part. “Yes, daddy.”
Deacon (The Sovereign Mountain, #3)
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview