“If there weren’t any cameras here,” he continues, lips blazing a tantalizing path down the column of my throat, “if there wasn’t an audience watching us…” “What would you do?” I ask. It’s a prod and a push, a nudge to get him to be specific in his verbal pursuit. It’s how we got here in the first place, a move I do not regret. “I’d take your bra off. I’d slide your underwear down next, taking my time until you were naked and at my mercy. Then, I’d worship your body. I’d wrap your legs around my neck and bury my face between your thighs.” His thumb catches on my bottom lip, pulling it down.
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