“Now, it’s my turn to confess my love for you, my husband…” then Scarlett let her warm and enticing tongue travel around his skin. From his left ear, down to his neck, she even dared to leave love bites to mark him as hers. And Voltaire was groaning and grunting at her every sensual antic. He knew she wasn’t a vanilla kind in bed, and he was happy to prove that to himself. He likes her just the way she is. Or even if she may change for better or for worse, as long as she takes him with her, it wouldn’t really matter. He was lost in his own fantasy of her being with him that he did not notice she was already staring at his proudly standing proof of masculinity. He knew he was not just among the average when it comes to size. His ancestors have a mixed race of black and white American blood.