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“Juanita barely registered the cool fur of moss at her back before his hands had claimed her hips again and his lips were going in for the kill. And not her neck this time. He went straight for a nipple, his hot mouth closing over the taught, cold peak, pressing her into the rock with the force of his passion.” — Amy Andrews
Juanita barely registered the cool fur of moss at her back before his hands had claimed her hips again and his lips were going in for the kill. And not her neck this time. He went straight for a nipple, his hot mouth closing over the taught, cold peak, pressing her into the rock with the force of his passion.