“You look like something out of a fucking painting. Like a princess. I can’t wait to do very un-princess-like things to you when we get home.” “A princess? Really?” she says, but I can tell she’s pleased. I nod, pressing into her belly and running my lips over the shell of her ear. “The kind of princess who ends up bent over a bed with her gown up over her waist while a prince kneels behind her and kisses her pretty cunt.” “Promises, promises,” she replies, her voice hitching with undisguised arousal.
