THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST
"A hell of a lot more."
Clint sank to his knees in front of her, running his hands down her legs,
his fingers closing around her ankles. With his face right in front of her
groin, she fought the impulse to wriggle away—or thrust her aching sex
into his face. Instead, she held still, entranced by him.His clever fingertips trailed around to the front of her ankles, down across the tops of her feet and back up again. He grasped one ankle and lifted, his fingertips sliding over the sole with feather-light motions. Hot currents of electricity arced up her legs, straight into her clitoris. When he performed the same teasing on her other foot, she clutched his shoulders to