“I want you to fuck me, Peaches,” I murmur against the side of his throat, feeling his pulse quicken under my mouth. He tightens his legs around my hips and digs his fingers into my shoulder blades. “I want you on top of me and inside of me. I need to feel your cock stretching me open and driving me past insanity and then putting me back together again.” “Fucking hell, when did you become such a filthy poet?”
