*Senya*
Leaning against the table where I am rather certain he will have me before the night is done, I sip my brandy and watch as he shrugs out of his jacket, his back to me so I can enjoy the play of muscles across the broad expanse. The man is certainly a fine specimen.
He tosses the coat over the top of a stuffed chair, before facing me and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal dark hair covering forearms that look as though they have been carved from granite. I can’t seem to take my eyes from the corded muscles that thin as they flow into his hands but leave no doubt regarding the strength that resides there. I imagine them skimming over my flesh, closing around a breast, and kneading it until it fit perfectly within the curve of his palm, where his roughened skin would tease
