Rip!
My designer dress is shredded in half by Desmond's large ripped hands, and he sets them aside on the floor, plastering his chest to my back as he lets out a low hum of approval. Then he looks at my chest with an unreadable expression. I can't tell if this is a good or a bad thing.
"What?" I snap, suddenly pissed he stopped.
So much for holding him off for five days.
"Your tits look like they belong to a fucking goddess."
I blink. The compliment takes me by surprise, really. A blush creeps up my cheeks, heating my entire face until I feel it reach the back of my neck and ears.
Before I can reply, Desmond anchors his hand against my neck, gently turning my head and bringing it up to his smiling mouth. He kisses me slowly. Lazily. Like we have all the time in the world, because honestly speaking, we do. His touch sends a bolt of electricity down my body, and before I know it, I turn my body around to face him, deepening our kiss.
