It took an hour to diffuse their morning lust but none seemed satisfied.
The emerald silk slid over her skin like liquid sin, catching the morning light and throwing it back in molten flashes.
The dress had been designed by someone who understood exactly how lethal a backless gown could be: from the nape of her neck all the way down to the twin dimples just above the swell of her ass, nothing but smooth honey-brown skin and the elegant sweep of her spine.
The fabric clung to every obscene curve (full, high breasts that didn't need a bra, a waist he could almost span with both hands, hips that flared dramatically before pouring into long, toned thighs).
The hem stopped mid-thigh, high enough that every time she breathed the silk shifted and threatened to reveal the slick mess still dripping down the inside of her legs from the last hour.
Priya looked like she'd been built for boardrooms and back-room fucking in equal measure.
