I slipped out of the bedroom, padding through the house as quiet as a burglar. After carefully opening the door, I spied the couple on the bed. He was...fat, on his back, and snoring like a saw mill, sleeping off his drunk. His wife lay on her side, sandy-blonde hair almost glowing by the moonlight. I ripped away her covers, revealing her body clad in a cotton nightgown that covered her modestly from head to foot, decorated with little blue flowers. I slipped into bed with her, stroking her. Crispin said, “She’s tight, but she’ll be wet.”I frowned at him.“Do you need foreplay for this?” he asked, hands on hips, as if chastising me.I thought about it. “Foreplay is lovely, but”—I looked down Domino’s body, and all I could think of was—“no, I want that inside me.”“I don’t want to hurt you, not our first time.”“I’ll tell you if it hurts, but,” and I stopped, because no man wants to hear that you have other lovers more well endowed than he is, especially not at this moment, “Please,. More

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