9: Blame It on You

Fenella’s POV That night, the blond man in front of me used both his hands to remove my dress. Ah, he seemed to be aroused. I could clearly see the man's exposed muscles. His chest was chiseled, his arms looked strong as if they could support my entire body, and his neck stood tall like an oak tree trunk. The man's fingers skillfully unhooked my strapless bra. I glanced down at his pants, and I could see a hard bulge right beneath his jeans zipper. The man stopped, but his actions only tormented me. Ugh, I wanted to touch him. I wanted to feel the warmth and firmness of that bulge. The familiar face, the strands of hair I knew by heart, and the tempting lips. Don't stop! Oh, I know. Maybe he needed more encouragement. I sucked on the prominent bone at the base of his neck. The man flinched; his emerald eyes now gazed back at me. The next moment, we fought for dominance over our lips and tongues. It was an insatiable passion, and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it so much that I didn't realize