“Honey,” he murmured, taking another lick along my seam and groaning as he swallowed. “You always say honey in your books.” I was being tortured… by my own instruction. This man had read almost all of my romance novels, cataloged them in his mind like an erotic encyclopedia, and now unleashed all that knowledge on me—on my body with fervent hunger. My mouth opened and shut, and if it was possible for my face to feel any hotter, it did. “Am I wrong?” He moaned. “Not honey. Forbidden fruit.” My gasp turned into a strangled cry when his lips set around my clit once more and sucked hard, milking
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