“Do you want to know what you taste like?” he said against her breast. One long finger dipped into her body. As if he wanted her to know he wasn’t talking about her mouth. She gripped his back through his silk shirt, scoring him with her nails. “Peaches,” he said, shifting her body, moving downward with his mouth, kissing the skin of her stomach. “Like eating peaches. Silky flesh on my lips and tongue as I suck. Smooth and sweet down the back of my throat when I swallow.”
Oh give me a break!! Nobody tastes like fucking peaches.
