“Where’s the severing draught?” he mumbled against my stomach. He kissed lower, lower. I blinked, trying to think clearly enough to answer. “It’s there.” Breathless, I pointed to the table, to the little bottles on top. “The black one.” A deep, breathy moan left him as he slid a finger inside me. My head fell back as he curled it perfectly, as he took it out and back in. He pressed a second finger inside me and said, “Throw it in the fire.”
WHAT THE FUCK SIR
