wet tongue between my thighs, lashing hungrily as it swirls deeper between my legs. “What are you doing?” I moan. “Tasting you.” He dips his tongue into my folds, and I squirm with pleasure. “Christ on a cracker, Rory. You taste like heaven.” “Mal, what are you…” But then his tongue brushes my clit, and his lips clamp down on it, sucking. I squeeze my thighs against his face and grab his hair, arching against the pillow and moaning as I press his head into me. “You’ll wake England, darlin’.” He dips a finger into me, flicking my nub with his tongue at the same time. “What do you care? You have
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