He doesn’t react until my fingers skim his breeches. The grip on my neck loosens, allowing me to breathe. My pulse beats a rapid drumroll. It’s now or never. I slide my hand down his crotch, my fingers tracing the outline of a cock almost as thick as my wrist. Bloody hell. At his sharp intake of breath, I crack open an eye to lock gazes with a pumpkin as long as my head and twice as broad. Yellow flames flicker from its triangular eyes and from a broad mouth carved with jagged teeth. My gaze wanders to the top, where a thick stalk curls backward, surrounded by withered leaves that simulate
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