‘I’m blushing at the thought of Jacob Frye dressing me in pretty lingerie or negligee. It’s the sensation of his warm rough hands pulling up stockings lined with lace garter up my thighs, and his calloused fingers lightly stroking the bare skin of my exposed inner thighs. It’s the expression on his face when he’s on his knees in that moment: it is not merely tinged with the promise of sin, but with total devotion. The way that he his shallow breaths fall on my skin and he follows them with gentle kisses that make me shiver. How it all leaves me with a deep, aching need to be consumed by him. It’s when he stands up, his hands skimming over my stocking-clad legs as he moves, and towers over me in his own naked glory. He holds me with tenderness, so gently that in his embrace I feel delicate. Cherished.‘