Rhysand.
Rain obeys without a word.
She sinks to her knees on the thick rug in front of the armchair. Her eyes lock on mine—storm-gray, dark with lust and that delicious edge of defiance that always makes my c**k throb harder. Her mouth is slightly apart, her n*****s tight and begging for a suck.
But I look away from it, when her hands touch my thighs. She looks so cautious but her eyes flare with need that seem to push everything else aside. She dips low over my chest and I inhale sharply.
Her hot tongue starts at my collarbone.
She drags it downward, wet and slow, licking every drop like she’s starving. The wine mixes with the salt of my skin, and she moans at the taste, the sound vibrating against in my gut and blooming lower.
Her tongue circles my left n****e, sucking the wine of
