King Salvatore.
I fix my shirt, turning to look at Lilas as she walks out of the bathroom. I close my eyes, controlling myself as her scent wafts through my nose once again. She is clearly a problem because we just went two rounds on that mahogany desk that is supposed to be for work.
The feeling of penetrating her tight walls, the warmth, kissing her pouty lips. Lilas is perilous to my life but I don’t care. I stare at her, mesmerized by her soft features. Her face is framed by cascading waves of black silk hair, cheeks adorned with a subtle blush, a slender nose and swollen lips that I couldn’t stop kissing. She looks like the brushstrokes of a masterful artist.
Lilas is in her clothes but as I stare at her, it’s like I still have her waist in my encompassing hands, slapping her pale
