“You want that, don’t you?” Sands baited her.
“Yes, sir,” she writhed now more than ever, moving her small body in an erotic dance as seductive as any porn star’s crude contortions.
Nearby, George was groaning, too. Though I refused to turn his way, in my peripheral vision I could see that Darcy’s tongue and mouth had brought him to the edge and held him there. “God, girl!” I heard his heavy whisper. While disgust and shame rankled my heart, I ignored the feelings and returned my attention to the scene of Fawn and the smooth-talking Mr. Sands.
The girl was practically dancing on the man’s fingers. Even I, novice that I was, could tell that she at the brink and about to orgasm when Sands abruptly pulled his hand away. He extended it toward Julio, who pressed a flat stick in his palm.
