“What do I taste like?” I parrot. “Blood and chocolate and iron, princess,” I growl, grinding my pelvis against hers. “Blood and chocolate a...d iron.”The only response is a delicious whimper joining the high-pitched squeak of my redhead as Mr. Armani tends to her lust.-A dozen strokes away from blinding chaos my plastic fantastic paramour gasps in my ear that she’s not on the pill. Loathes her arrogant shit head husband. Is only doing this to spice up their dead on arrival sex wife after. I have to admit I was suddenly overcome with feelings, love, protectiveness, and even some jealousy. Powerful stuff and really hurt in my chest: nothing I could do. I knew if I opened my mouth I was going to say something stupid and soppy and not what she wanted to hear I was certain. I just lay there hurting until she pulled me up saying she wanted a shower. I am sure she knew what I was feeling, it was probably written all over my face. As we got to the shower, we could hear Ivan in there. More

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