Artemisia

“How are you so wet already?” he asks with a smirk, circling my clit with his finger.

I moan, clasping his t-shirt. “Oh, shut up!”

His smirk gets broader, and he lets go of my hair, moving his other hand under my dress as well.

“Get this off,” he growls, and I comply, pulling my sundress over my head.

I unclasp my bra, making it join the dress as I let it fall on the floor, and my heart skips a beat as I see his eyes darken, the red flecks getting more prominent.

As ...