Emily Bishop

There wasn’t a soul in sight, unless some hapless tourist wandered through the shade in this little oasis and got the show of their lives.

“Yes, fuck,” he grunted.

My pussy tightened around him, milked him for every drop, and he gave it all.

I’d say it’s more than okay, bad and boozy bridesmaid.” T

His ocean-blue eyes sparkled beneath the bar’s down light, which also cast a shadow on one side of his face, right in the crook of his nose, which had been broken at some point if the kink in the bridge was anything to go by. Lips, not too full, just right – hmm, just like Goldilocks’ bed – curled back over perfectly white teeth.
And the jaw line. Oh, man. The guy could’ve chopped down trees with it.
The suit that clung to his muscular frame was all clean lines, stark black, and accented by a tie

What does it matter? I don’t even – look, shouldn’t you be out there, doing your thing?”