The chill on her buttocks was Nathan Moore's large palm, forcefully kneading as he suppressed his emotions about to erupt.
A faint sound arose, the sound of a metal zipper, followed by a snap of a hidden button opening, sliding back against the chair, Titus Zane's body was also lifted, his cry of surprise had not ceased when it promptly began again.
Her thoughts were traditional, never having tried such a position before, both sitting face to face wasn't enough for her to tilt her head back, he was pleased, she was struggling.
When a pair of strong palms gripped her waist and lifted her up, repeating a singular motion over and over, the enclosed space was left with only their interwoven breaths.
...
Entering the hall, Alder Locke ignored the aunt's enthusiastic greeting and strode up the stairs with a brooding expression.
Pushing open the door, and before even stepping in, he rudely tore off the necktie.
