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citricoslarubia > The Manhattanites: Unscrupulous > Part 8
"I bet you also want your champagne to taste like a candied fruit peel."

"Very much so." Her vivid imagination transported her somewhere away from the club and onto a beach. She fantasized herself lying topless in the sun while he fed her orange glace slices.

A breathy unevenness hummed between them. His nostrils flared to recover. As his chest rose up and down, it revealed his pecs were as fabulous as her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Too good to resist, she raised her hand for a torso-hot touch. I wanna lick you.

In an instant, he grabbed her hand, drawing her closer, placing her palm on chest.

Ah! Her thumb rested above his s.h.i.+rt's thin fabric. "You are such a Big Daddy-a very delectable Big Daddy." f.u.c.k me pah-lease.

His quarter-sized nipples stiffened under her thumb as if on instinct, thanking her for the compliment. Suddenly, the material between them became somewhat undetectable. "Once the champagne's tart bubbles glide down your throat and your sugar high kicks in," He moved her hand from his nipple to the center of his chest. "You'll feel your heart skip." He pulsed, lub-dub, lub-dub.

"I see." A knot rose in her throat. Sweet Jesus nipplelicious. He's got me. Fighting the urge to tear his white tailored b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt off, she raked her nails over him.

Nodding his head to confirm, he reached for her chin and pulled her face in close, giving her a soft kiss on the lips. Dry at first, lip to lip, no tongue, but a promise for what came next. "You want to sample...smoky aromas, a powdery cocoa on your palate after the first swallow."

"S-Smoky aromas sound interesting." She felt itchy. A hot ache burned throughout her. The urge to unzip the d.a.m.n Celine dress off her fevering body became excruciating.

So flippin' male. So effin' mine. So f.u.c.king now.

"Do you know what else sounds appealing?" He held on to her face with intent, as if he owned it. He could if he wanted to.

She dreamt she'd be crushed in his hands like candied sugar.

He strived for tenderness, she could tell, as gentle as his bull-designed body would let him. But she didn't occupy a Lenox china shop. Her body had been crafted in steel. Bring it on, Big Daddy.

Garner's lips returned to where they left off. His tongue didn't ask for permission entering. It didn't tickle, lick or dance. With one deep-intense-plunge, his kiss spoke in silence and declared, "I have you."

Fucccck, toes curling, scalp tingling, p.u.s.s.y wetting.

Pulling back, he acknowledged, "To reiterate your champagne order."

"Ooooh-" Intoxicated by his words, she'd disregarded the booze. She hadn't consumed an alcoholic drop in days. Not with Birdie around.

"You want a bold flavor." He extended his hand above her breast. Lowering his voice, he asked, "May I?"

Nodding and closing her eyes, she flirted, "You may." Here we go. It's my turn.

Heat came from his palm and seared her breast through the gown's fine material. He hadn't

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