Eros pulled back, his gaze raking over Patricia's body like a brand. She was utterly wrecked, a living monument to his hunger. Her skin blazed a fevered rose, throat to thighs etched with blooming bruises, breasts swollen and dark, nipples peaked like bruised cherries, tears carving silver paths down her cheeks.
Blonde hair fanned in a wild, sweat-damp halo across the cushions. And her pussy, untouched, a soaked, throbbing altar, lips flushed deep scarlet, glistening with desperate need, clit a hard, pulsing diamond, entrance clenching in frantic, visible spasms.
"Patricia," he growled, voice a low, seismic rumble that vibrated through her bones. "I've worshipped every inch. Marked you. Made you scream until your voice broke. But I haven't touched the place you ache for most."
