5
Grif
Holy s**t, I’d never seen color drain from a person’s face so fast. I’d set her off when I placed my hand on her shoulder. It was innocent enough; we were at a wedding reception, for Christ’s sake. I’d barely touched her beyond a handshake and placing my palm against her back. She was the one who’d run into me in the first place. She’s the one whose lush body had been plastered against mine. Her n*****s had hardened against my chest and I’d had to suppress a groan at her body’s reaction. I hadn't done a thing.
I couldn’t have f****d up this first meeting any more if I’d tried. I’d stuck my foot in my mouth, embarrassing her. I talked to her like a soldier with his platoon, not a lady. Moretti’s idea was for me to make contact with her, get her into bed, pleasure her into giving a
