Page 8 of The Enforcer

"Help you what?"

"Can you help me climax?"

I stilled, my gaze slicing into hers. Was this some kind of joke?

"Please, Joaquin," she said in a rush. "I can't really do it myself because of the pencil skirt. If you feel uncomfortable, I totally understand but I just, I would really like it if you would help me."

I hesitated. She was actually asking me to touch her - for the photos, of course - and I was sitting here, mouth open, like a fucking idiot.

"Sure," I said. "For the photos."

Lie.

That was a fucking lie.

But I didn't give a shit. I placed my hands on her hips and slid down to my knees. She spread her legs open, only to reveal she had no underwear on. She bunched the skirt up, giving me better access.

I felt my lips curve up.

I moved my face close enough to her cunt that I could feel her warmth.

And I started to lick her like she was a fucking dripping wet ice cream cone.

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