Emily's chuckle was a razor, dripping with the kind of mocking sweetness that made my fingers itch to ruin her. "Ha… ooo…" She cooed, her hand patting my cheek like I was some obedient little pet, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "My little boy is a momma lover…"
Something dark and feral uncoiled in my chest.
My hand shot up, seizing the front of her dress—yanking her forward until her breasts spilled over the neckline, heavy, ripe, the lace of her bra barely containing them. Then my fingers found her nipples, pinching—hard.
"Aaaaaah—!" The sound tore from her, raw, broken, her back arching off the seat. "D-Don't—!"
"Shut up." My voice was a whip-crack, my fingers twisting, rolling, pulling until the buds were hard as pebbles, dark red with blood and need. "You want to talk, Oka-san?" I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, my teeth grazing the sensitive skin beneath. "Then say something worth hearing."
