This is what we’re good at.
This is how we communicate.
As I swallow him down again and again, I hope he understands what I’m saying.
Mikhail f***s my mouth, his hands firm on either side of my face. I’m fine finishing him like this. I want to give him whatever he wants. But he pulls me off of him, panting.
I stand up. “How do you want me?”
He roughly palms my breast. His eyes are black. “Careful asking a question like that, Viviana.”
I bite my lower lip and repeat, “How do you want me?”
He grips my chin and pulls my lips to his for a quick kiss. “You’re the masseuse. You tell me.”
Butterflies flutter in my stomach, but I fight to look more confident than I feel.
I lay him on his back and crawl onto the table, stroking my fingers over his oiled-up skin. I massage his pecs and his
