His kiss was somewhat deep, a slight numbing pain accompanied by his sucking, its sensations coursing through the nerves on the surface of her skin, reaching into her very being, disrupting all her thoughts.
Jane McCain remained still, silent, her gaze unfocused on the ground beneath her, cheeks already flushed with heat.
She could feel his kiss, his breath, his hands through the shirt heavily kneading her body, so forcefully, as if he wanted to blend her into his own body.
The situation was somewhat out of control; Jane McCain vaguely realized this, yet she didn't want him to stop.
Inside, she liked it... liked that he liked her, including his fascination with her body—every inch of skin, every nerve, every cell, changed for him and only for him.
Allen Rivera pushed aside the breakfast on the table a bit and lifted Jane McCain onto the table, leaning down to kiss her lips.
