The air in the dimly lit antechamber hung heavy with the scent of polished oak and faint traces of jasmine incense, a veil that barely masked the underlying musk of anticipation and secrecy.
Aiden's fingers tangled in Catherine's golden hair, his grip firm yet trembling with a mix of frustration and raw need.
He leaned against the ornate wall, its cool marble pressing into his back like a silent judge.
"Where is Sabrina?" Aiden growled, his voice low and demanding as he stared down at her.
Catherine, the ever-gorgeous viscountess of the evening, was kneeling before him in a golden sparkling gown that hugged every curve, its daring split showing her thick thighs.
Her cleavage rose and fell with each breath, the fabric shimmering like molten gold.
Her lips wrapped tightly around his cock, tongue swirling greedily, saliva dripping down her chin in slick trails.
"Mmm… Aiden," she murmured around his length, her words vibrating against him.
