“Hey, this dress was expensive. I can’t have you tearing it off me.” “Give me more credit than that. I’d ease it off slowly,” he said, planting sweet little kisses by my ear before lightly sucking on the left lobe. “And I’d place it gently on a padded hanger before even thinking of pleasuring you. You’d beg, tell me you want me, but I’d say, ‘No, Naya, you know this dress is my first priority, and I’ll be back in twenty minutes after I run it to the dry cleaner.’”
