His gloves were stripped off and tossed on the table, and now she could feel the rasp of his calloused hands across her skin. She felt a blush coat he... cheeks as he palmed her left breast, his touches feather-light but somehow reassuring and controlling. He had a scent, a deep, wild musk which reminded her of horses and open fields, a grassy, primal scent which tingled her senses and nerves. She didn’t quite remember how they ended up near his bed, but she remembered with diamond-edged clarity. He smiled as he smelt her hair. She smelt of cinnamon and dove soap. Hazel turned around and excitingly hugged him back. Trevor lifted her up off her feet and kissed her. After all these years, sexual tension still filled the room with a snap. "How was your day, baby?” she asked. “It was good, boo,” he answered. “I made a pot roast for you, baby.” Her titties were so hard from hearing his voice. They ached to be sucked and bit. “Aww, thank you, baby. It smells really good.” Trevor realized his. More

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