Tilly batted a playful hand at Calum’s head. “Back to sex again. That didn’t take long.”
“Doesn’t matter anyway,” he said. “I’ve got handcuffs of my own. The fur-lined variety. Come back to my flat and I’ll show you, officer.”
Cuffed to Calum’s headboard, her legs spread wide while her lover ran a vibrator over and over her clit, drawing out helpless orgasm after orgasm, she couldn’t help but think that something was wrong with this picture. Wasn’t she supposed to cuff him? But it was all too delirious, too delicious to question, so she didn’t bring the matter up.
“When you’re a police officer, ma’am,” he whispered, replacing the vibrator with his tongue and directing his hot breathy words between her pussy lips, “you’ll need someone to take the pressure off at the end of a long shift. After taking thieves all day, you’ll need someone to take you. I think I could do that. What do you think?” His long wet tongue began to make firm upward strokes between her thighs.
“I…know…you…could,” juddered Tilly.
He stopped to ask, “So are we on, then, Tilly? For something a bit more long-term?”
“I am if you are,” she rushed out, desperate to get him back to work down there.
“Good.” He moved back in, sampling her juices, tasting her wares.
“I might even…learn to dance,” she said rashly.
Would she regret that commitment? Lying back and arching her spine beneath the onslaught of his ravishing tongue, she thought that, on the whole, she would not.