The hazy, golden warmth of the Scotch had lulled Sabrina into a false sense of security, a feeling that she was merely participating in a heated, consensual dance. She thought she understood the boundaries of this encounter, that it was a game of passion, a temporary lapse in her authority.
But Mike had no intention of playing by the rules of a "gentle" lover.
Just as she was beginning to find a rhythm in his caresses, the atmosphere shifted violently. The teasing, rhythmic pinching of her nipples suddenly transformed into something much more primal and unyielding.
Mike's hands, which had been kneading her breasts with a certain degree of reverence, suddenly gripped her with a bruising intensity. He pulled her closer, forcing her chest against his hard, damp pectorals, and then, without a second of warning, he lunged forward.
"Ah--! Mmph!" Sabrina's eyes flew wide, her breath hitching in a sharp, startled gasp as she felt the sudden, sharp sting of his teeth.
