DIRTY DADDIES
Roman and I never quite understood how to be anything but vicious in our tango.
Teeth and tongue and five years of pent-up fury and need consumed us.
He ripped my shirt open, buttons scattering, and his mouth found my breast, his tongue lashing my nipple before he bit down, hard. I cried out, my back arching.
"Still like it rough, I see," he growled, his hand sliding into my jeans.
He didn't fumble. He knew exactly how I liked to be touched. His fingers slid through my wetness, circling my clit with brutal perfect pressure.