My Reluctant Plaything
The wet sound of it was obscene in the quiet room.
Clara moaned low in her throat, rocking her hips against Daniel’s mouth. “He’s good, isn’t he?” she said, her voice thick.
Michael didn’t answer, but his knuckles were white where he gripped the stool.
Daniel’s mouth worked over her with slow, deliberate strokes, his tongue circling her clit before diving lower again. Clara’s breaths came sharper, her other hand gripping the edge of the bar for balance.
“Open your mouth wider,” she murmured to Daniel, and he did, sucking her clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it until she gasped.