His voice was teasing. Innocent. Like he had no idea why his hand was currently groping her massive tit.
Helena trembled. Her free hand moved to the neckline of her dress. Fingers hooking into the fabric.
She pulled.
The dress's neckline stretched down—revealing pale, creamy skin. The swell of her breast. And then—
'Pop.'
Her left breast spilled free.
No bra.
Of course there was no bra.
Viktor's eyes widened as his hand—previously over fabric—now touched bare skin. Warm. Soft. Impossibly smooth.
His palm pressed against her breast, fingers sinking into yielding flesh. He could feel her heartbeat—rapid, pounding—against his hand.
And her nipple.
'Fuck.'
It was hard. Swollen from last night sucking and healings. Brown and thick, pressing into his palm like a pebble.
"Aah~" Helena bit her lip, suppressing a moan as his fingers instinctively closed around that sensitive nub.
"Young Master," she breathed, barely audible over the wind. "I-I'm—"
