‘That’s a tough one, I’m not much of a dancer. It doesn’t fit with my tough guy image.’ ‘Like the British pop tarts do?’ she quipped bac.... I supposed she had me there. Damn, but my face hurt from all this smiling. ‘So, does your face hurt?’ – It was out before I really thought about it. She actually brought both her hands up to her cheeks on that one and blushed a bit. She looked a little surprised, maybe even a little disbelieving. ‘You know, it really does. Yours too?’ ‘Yep, I’m not. She was dripping wet inside, though Henry had yet to touch her there. He had touched her everywhere else, but seemed to be waiting to touch her there, as if it was the last, most delicious ripest peach left on the tree, the one he’d been saving until the very end. It was entirely up to him when and how he would consume the peach, as her hands were tied to the bedposts and it was beyond her control. She looked at him through her open legs as he stood on his knees, pushing her ankles further. More

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