The way her breasts jostled as she did so reminded her of just how much she used to hate them. That hatred had given way to a false sense of confidenc..., and now she not only hated her boobs, she hated herself for having been so foolish as to deem them positive assets. ‘I’m guessing that last night didn’t go quite as planned,’ said Simon, cracking another egg into the pan. ‘It was a disaster,’ sulked Emma. ‘A complete bloody disaster.’ She explained what had gone down at the cabaret bar. ‘All of. He knelt in front of her again. Her thighs were wide spread. Her little white panties had tiny blue flowers on and he knew she’d put on fresh ones when she’d visited the bathroom.Her eyes opened and she looked at him. Her hand clawed the panties to one side baring herself to him. Her pubic hair was almost coppery. She held herself open and wetness gleamed. Helpless, he plunged his face into that wetness; his lips found the top of her cleft, found the prominent bud of her clitoris. He’d barely. More

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