“I want to taste you.” His voice seduced her. His body, costumed in a linen kilt and a mask of the ancient Egyptian lion-headed god of the massacre, made her body burn. It was inappropriate, unprofessional, but when he spoke, “I’m not a gentle lover. I’ll take you fast. I’ll take you hard, and I won’t stop until we’ve both come,” Diana willingly took the plunge into decadence, forgetting where they were and who she was.
