Franklin plumbing room becomes streaked with black

I float away on a cloud of sensation. Bliss takes me to another plane as Black works my body higher and higher into oblivioninto a space where his wrongs dont seem to matter as much, just for a minute. When Im on the edge, my thighs trembling, mouth opening and closing in soft musical moans, he takes is even farther. I erupt with a scream that Black devours when his lips travel back to mine. The white ceiling of the room becomes streaked with black as my vision flickers. I fist the comforter in my hands, distorting the cotton into clouds as fuzzy as my thoughts. The room fills with the scent of me and I grind against Blacks palm, trying to drag out the sensation. He helps me, thrusting in gently but regularly, dragging the pads of his fingers in ways that make me shudder.

When I collapse down against the mattress, I lean my head back against the pillow to catch my breath. Black leans on his side, still fully clothed, and gives me a very smug alpha look, reminding me exactly why I should have hit him instead of letting him touch me in the first place.

No, there were worse things than a brothel. Such as starving to death in some hidden shadow. Or, working the street for example. She had seen the women walking through the London night searching for customers. Desperate to sell themselves just to survive.

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