The Coochie Diaries
Zora finally looked up, and her gaze was like a physical touch, knowing, assessing, deeply carnal.
“Give me your hands.”
Lila extended them across the table. Instead of turning them over to study palms, Zora grasped them firmly and did something utterly unexpected. She brought Lila’s hands to her own body, pressing them firmly against the soft, abundant curves of her breasts, which were barely contained by a low-cut blouse of purple silk.
“Feel my curves,” Zora commanded, holding Lila’s hands in place. “The life in them. The history. As I will feel yours.”
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