Soren
The dress was criminal. Short. It should've been illegal. In fact, when this meeting was over, I was burning it to fucking ashes.
It hugged every lethal curve like second skin. It pushed up her fuller breasts, teasing her cleavage in the darnest manner. Enough to want to feel them. Not enough to feed your creative imaginations.
Her waist was cinched. Tinier. My fingers curled as I remembered what it felt like in my hands, how perfectly my fingers fit around her like a snug belt. She crossed those toned, taller legs over the other and a flash of smooth, ivory thighs greeted me.
Fuck me, I thirsted to have my face buried between them. I strained against my zipper and stifled a hiss as my hips bucked forward.
Jericho had cracked his glass upon seeing her. Mercer wasn't doing much better. His hunger was a livid thing through the bond. Quinlan didn't hide the fact that he was staring at her tits.
Anymore and we would be salivating all over her like common dogs.
