Playback, Jury of the Heart  by Ivory Snow

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Playback, Jury of the Heart  
(Ivory Snow)

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Playback, Jury of the Heart: Extract


She returned dressed in a daffodil-yellow kimono of slinky silk. Lemon drops sprigged with crimson baby spade-leafs. They danced on the cloth. A topaz necklace swayed above smooth honey-coloured breasts. A heady scent, clover and wild, wrapped around her, as she moved.

She pressed a small shot glass into his hand.  ‘Malt Rum,’ she said.  Her hands were rough as a farmer’s, the nails on them clean and trimmed. But her touch on his fingers was like a spinal tap. It shook him all over.

‘Drink,’ she said. He hesitated. ‘You’ll need it.’ 

He took a gulp.  

‘You look comfortable,’ he managed through a tight throat, wary of what was on offer.


She threw her head back and laughed, that loud-as-a-sneeze laughter, perhaps louder. It spread, it tinkled. One couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t.

‘Comfortable,’ she said again. ‘I’m comfy, darling. More than.’ Candy eyes appraised him. ‘Now you need to be.’

 She led him by the hand to an inside chamber, a room that smelt of lavender, primulas and cyclamens. It, in fact, had those very flowers in colourful array in a vase.

Liam noted a leather head on a Rustler king bed of solid timber in the Pharaoh suite.

And though he worried about that part of his body no longer being capable of caring, Sugar sensed his severe mental baggage. She treated him like one on the critical list.

She touched him, gentle finger strokes. And then it was a full hand riding up and down his length. Faster, faster. And then her warm mouth found his tip, even as she continued stroking with her hand. She flicked a tongue across the head, and he moaned. He exclaimed, closed his eyes and faded into a calm sleep.


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