Her dancing fires made her suck harder on his cock . . . made her hand tug at it with heightened urgency. She leaned firmly into the couch, mashing her breasts against it.

But why? Why was Mr. Grant doing it? Why would he want her to?

These questions conflicted with the emotions driving her actions. That conflict caused her to hesitate in those actions, her lips skidding along his cock as her pumping mouth faltered.

That was when Mr. Grant took control.

Until now his tense grasp in her hair had only been enough to keep the tresses up out of the way, helping her avoid them while allowing...