He’s getting impatient now, strong hands skimming soft breasts, tweaking at pert nipples roughly. His hands go lower, sliding and groping, and, on cue, her moans increase in volume. They madden him and he runs questing hands through her long hair, fingers splayed out.

He hisses with frustration and slides one finger between those perfect lips, growling angrily as she automatically starts to suck, to lick. His finger explores the warm dampness and withdraws.

Giving in, he throws himself into a chair and stares moodily at his annoying new toy.

“Wanker must have put an off switch somewhere,” he mutters.


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