“You’re right,” he says, after a long, pensive moment. He lifts my hand, holding my gaze as he presses a kiss to the cuff around my wrist. “You’ll let me give you your treat, though?” My face falls. “Oh.” He looks confused at the reaction, and then even more confused when I reached for his fly, asking, “You want it here?” He captures my wrist, frowning. “What are you doing?” “Didn’t you want…” I look at him, baffled. “You said you wanted my mouth.” His expression blanks out, and then he chuckles, low and mischievous. “Sweetheart, of course I want your mouth. But that wasn’t the treat I had in
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