His smell, his skin, his touch made her lose focus completely. Before she knew it, she was lying on his bed with him on top of her, the kiss never sto...ping the white contrast of her dress against his dark blue bed sheets were making it easy for him to find her. He knew he should take it slow, but the way her chest was moving up and down, her breathing heavy and her thighs so exposed, he was quickly losing control. He stood up, his lips peeling away from hers. She looked at him, slightly. It appears Metzendorf was in England to ascertain the market for Satan’s Breath, and was handing out free samples, although anyone wanting more would need to pay the hefty price of five guineas a wrap. Obviously, Satan’s Breath is a luxury item, which the hoi polloi will never be able to afford. Now Metzendorf is no more the cartel of rich and influential men behind the enterprise will need to appoint a new distributor. Wycombe would have been a likely candidate, had he not fallen from his. More

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