She daydreams of his possessive stare and his taut, lean, torso as she kneels on the floor, wracked by longing. She splashes scented oil on her breast... and rubs each nipple dry. Her hips undulate with erotic slowness. She can feel her juices maddeningly begin to collect at the juncture between her legs. Each pink nipple stands proudly to attention, thighs trembling. Wanting... She roughly clips a budded breast between her thumb and index finger, forcing a noise in her throat. Isobelle half-. In a way I didn't blame John Bernhardt. He had a lovely and very rich daughter and she was hanging out with a young man with an unknown future. I took it for awhile--all the questions that got answered, but never what he was searching for.Finally I said, "Mr. Bernhardt, you are trying to find out what kind of a person I am. Sarah probably knows more about me than I do about her. I do know that she is beautiful. I know she does some dumb things sometimes, but also doesn't mind going about to. More

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