CHAPTER 50: THE DEVIL’S TONGUE
ELODIE’S POV
"Oh my God!"
I find myself crying out loud, the sound echoing in the silent, static-heavy air of the room. My voice is thin, reedy, stripped of all its former modesty. "Oh f**k, please... don't stop."
I whisper the plea, my pride having long since evaporated into the heat between us. He smiles—a slow, predatory spreading of his lips that tells me he has me exactly where he wants me.
"I have no intention of stopping, baby girl," he purrs.
His tongue, that impossible, muscular ribbon of heat, begins to trace slow, deliberate circles against my p***y. He doesn’t just focus on the center; he explores the periphery, sliding against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, teasing the boundaries of my endurance before spiraling back toward the core
