Craving my mother's Hot Fiancé
Not even close.
“Stay right there,” he commanded, straightening up. He disappeared through the kitchen doors at the far end of the restaurant.
I lay there, exposed and panting, wondering what he was doing. My pussy clenched again, pulsing with anticipation. The air felt too heavy, too charged. I wanted to touch myself, to ease the building pressure, but something in his voice told me to wait.
He returned moments later, with a small jar of honey in his hand…,probably swiped from the chef’s pantry. He unscrewed the lid with a wicked grin, dipping two fingers into the sticky sweetness.