Beguiled is #9 in romance. Or #66. Depends whether you trust the teaser or the sidebar.
Regardless, it is #1 in dirty talk.
“Anastasia,” he breathes, “Does this makes you feel weak in between your knees?”
“Does it send tingles down your toes?”
Trailing soft, sensual kisses across my nape he continues, “Does this makes you feel like a jell-O?”
“Do you zippity-bop puddin’ pops?”
I can feel his mouth and tongue working like magic on my skin as he speaks, “Does this one makes your breath go harder and leaves you panting for more, Anastasia?”
He rubs his mouthparts on me as he speaks, multitasking like magic, “Doev thif wum makz rr brev go hurrdurr and eefths juu panthung fr murr, Anathtbaslsia?”
His hands move down my neck, removing my hand which is shielding my bare breasts with the torn evening dress.
Bared and shielded at once, so too can my necktits magically multitask.
Cupping them each he plants a teasing kiss my lips, “Does this makes you feel butterflies in down there you were talking about?”
“Where does it go,” he breathes. “Where does I puts the penis parts?”
His breathing is harsh while I find myself panting heavily when his tongue thrusts into mine savouring the taste of wine and sending me tickles inside as his hands cup my breasts harder.
When he pierces my tongue with his tongue it tickles and tastes like wine. I am so wasted.
Unconsciously, my hands travel in his mane glistening like raw silk.
Unaware and yet still able to include it in the first person present tense narrative, I touch his mane which glistens like the type of silk that doesn’t glisten: “Raw silk is made from the short fibres left after combing and carding, so it doesn’t shine like many other silk fabrics.”
Holding him close, I discover myself melting into his kiss, until he pulls the final straw with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Drawing straws to decide who will break the camel’s back is the next step after tongue-bloodletting in his mysterious and sexy mating ritual.
“And, sweet heart, can this sweep you away in love with me? What is it that you call?” He chuckles against my lips, “Head over heels in love?”
At that moment I realize his severe down syndrome was just a language barrier all along.
This gives me a shock. What the hell am I doing?
I can’t satisfy my retard fetish with this!
Love? No no it can’t happen. He is not mine. And I realise back again who he is! He just wants to use me. No way am I going to allow this. I won’t let my heart crushed away, again. But I am too weak to detach myself from him.
I have lost too much blood. I am paralyzed. And he won’t even give me a cookie so that I might recover my strength.
I cannot go on.