The Taste of Submission
she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
She moved her hand faster, her fingers sliding easily through her own juices. She wanted to feel the friction, the burn, the intense pleasure that the writer had described. She imagined the stranger from the bar, his grip on her waist, his body pressed against hers. She thought about the alleyway, the brick wall, the raw, unprotected feeling of being taken.