“‘The things the man did with his tongue and his fingers had only been surpassed by his shockingly large, decadently pulsing, and wickedly throbbing—’” Hawke chuckled. “This woman has a knack for adverbs, doesn’t she?” “You can stop now.” “‘Manhood.’” “What?” I gasped. “That’s the end of that sentence,” he explained, and when he glanced up, I immediately knew that whatever was about to come out of his mouth was going to burn me alive. “Oh, you may not know what she means by manhood. I do believe she’s talking about his cock. Prick. Dick. His—” “Oh, my gods,” I whispered.
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