Lola
.
.
Raphael placed a kiss just on the top of my inner p***y lips, not too far from my clit hood. My back arched and my hips jerked up, seeking more.
He stared up at me. “Easy, nasty nun,” he said, “pleasure is more pleasurable when there’s a little torture.”
“I thought you said you weren’t into pain,” I said, my voice cracking as my throat tightened.
“Pain isn’t the only way to torture,” he said, tracing his finger around the Venus mound. “Pleasure could also be a form of torture.”
My body was still shriveling. “How can pleasure be a form of torture?” I asked.
It just didn’t make sense.
A low, dark, crispy laugh bubbled out of his throat. “You know nothing,” he said, “I’ll show you how pleasure and torture could intertwine. I’ll show you where the line blurs.”
His voice seep
