Her attachment, to Gavin Graves, was a predatory medicine.
His breathing grew more rapid, a multitude of fires burned in his chest, perhaps long-repressed anger, perhaps inch-by-inch provocations of desire, in any case, it had to be vented on her.
He kissed her hard, blood surging through his body, pleasure shooting straight to his head, even if she did nothing, it was more intense than any pleasure borne from skilled techniques of others!
His hand reached inside her clothes, the tactile sensation was as smooth as congealed fat, his lips and teeth sensed that familiar sweet freshness…
This feeling was indescribable, perhaps his mind clouded by alcohol, for a moment he forgot those entanglements of right and wrong.
The soft murmurings spilled from her tender red lips, delicate and charming, so sweet it made him both revel and suffer.
"Cherry..." he leaned over her, breathlessly asking, "Do you know what we're doing?"
