,
Beatrice Hargrave lifted her eyes, her moist pupils gazing at the man above, while her curled eyelashes trembled with each blink, stirring an irresistible itch in the heart.
Her slightly pursed lips shimmered, swollen either from just being kissed by Nicholas Croft or intentionally pouted by her.
"No," these two words carried disdain, in a tiny voice, like a cat, "Proper girls do not indulge in such vices."
Nicholas Croft's downcast gaze still carried unscattered affection, locking eyes with the girl's moist pupils, he took another drag, exhaled some, then directly pressed down his handsome face, his lips fresh from smoking sealed onto Beatrice's lips, sucking, savoring, grinding, his hot tongue slipped into her mouth stirring around until the kiss was thoroughly enjoyed before pulling away, his full forehead resting against Beatrice's, speaking with a low hoarse voice.
"Do you dislike it?"
