The second Vivian’s knees hit the floor, Christopher groaned as he threw his head backwards, tightening his jaw.
Because f**k.
She looked so f*****g good like this.
On her knees.
Looking up at him.
Her eyes wide, heavy-lidded, dripping in need, her lips parted, breath shaky, her thighs pressed together like she was fighting the ache between her legs.
She was a mess.
A shaking, dripping, desperate little mess.
And she was his.
Christopher smirked, running his fingers slowly through her hair, tilting her chin up.
“Look at you, baby. So f*****g needy. So f*****g desperate for me.”
Vivian whimpered, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, her body burning with need, with hunger, with pure aching desire.
“Please, handsome,” she whispered, voice wrecked, eyes pleading.
Christopher
