Amelia's knees buckled slightly as Joash pulled her up from the alcove floor, her lips still swollen from his c**k, the taste of his c*m lingering on her tongue.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her black gown askew, breasts barely tucked back into the neckline.
The gala's murmurs filtered through the curtain, it immediately reminded her of the world just beyond their hidden frenzy. A bit of restraint coiled inside her.
Joash zipped his pants with a satisfied smirk, his eyes raking over her disheveled form—hair tousled, cheeks red from smacking it, thighs slick with her own s****l arousal.
'You're coming with me,' he said, voice rough and commanding, grabbing her wrist. He yanked her out of the alcove, steering her through the crowd with his hand firm on her lower back.
