ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs

"Is that a private party with or without George?" he asks, nosing in against her throat, breathing deliberately thready. He might be a dirty old man, but she'd never had an honest protest for it before. "Because I'm starting to feel like we're going behind his back. He's going to feel so left out..." She smells so good, like better than should be allowed, ever. The way his body is beginning to react means they should break apart now; use it as a cue to make their grand entrance, but naturally it makes him tighten his grip around her middle.