<span style="font-weight: bold">Samantha Belweather</span><br/><br/>“Wasn’t it just?” I agreed. “Why Jules, I’m not making you<span style="font-style: italic">uncomfortable</span>, am I?” I asked, as I continued to smear<span style="font-style: italic">mess</span>across my meal’s chest, the better to flavor him, and I gently rubbed my ankles together, grinding Jules’s leg between my calves.