Antin's hand on my chest was moving my dress down my shoulders and his lips grazed my cheek, drawing a shudder through my body, my back arching into the careful pass of his fingers, aware of what they promised. Con's hand drifted up beneath my skirt, grazing the insides of my thigh, and my eyes widened as an unexpected and potent arousal pooled in my cunt. The shock of the initial pain was transforming from a stab to a heavy pound, a profane ache that I associated with the frenzied height of fucking.
