Temperance is a mean with regard to pleasures. - Aristotle
His fingertips brush over my skin from neck to navel. My body quivers under his touch.
Vlad's lips curl up into a smile. "Close your eyes and listen to my voice." He tips my chin up and to the side.
His lips trail a path from the nook of my neck down to my right breast. The warmth of his mouth claims the sensitive bud. He toys with the n****e, caressing it with his tongue.
'Do you like that?'
"God, yes," I say, softly. "That's nice."
His hand moves south, and my body stiffens.
'Relax. I will touch you, but I will be gentle. If you dislike the way it feels, tell me to stop and I will.'
My body relaxes. His fingertips glide over my hip and come to rest on my thigh. Slowly, his hand slides up my left leg. Taking hold of my thi
