"I shall start on your face, Madam," Aether said in a calm, professional tone, standing just above her head.
Delphine shivered as she looked up—right there, directly above her eyes, was it... That massive bulge straining against the fabric of his robe. The thick outline of his cock pressing desperately to break free. It twitched under the fabric, alive, heavy, practically burning through.
Her breath caught in her throat.
He was turned on. Fiercely. His body was literally on fire with arousal.
And yet… he wasn't fucking her.
Delphine groaned inside, her heart aching with frustration. The massage was great—amazing, even—but her pussy was dripping, aching, burning for something far more.
It was torture.
The dish was right there—steaming, fragrant, made just for her—and she couldn't even take a bite.
She couldn't touch, couldn't taste, couldn't feel it inside her. Her thighs rubbed together again, seeking some pressure, some friction—but it wasn't enough.
