m a t t h i a s helvar & n i n a zenik
If Matthias could be kissing Nina, feeling her nip at his lip with her clever teeth, feel her body fitted against his own, hear her release that little sigh in the back of her throat, why would he ever bother doing anything else? Why would anyone? She was sweet as the first rain, lush as new meadows. His hands curled along her back, tracing her shape, the line of her spine, the emphatic flare of her hips.