[Diva doesn't mind the hand on her hip, especially since it makes it so much easier to lean against Conrad and take a small nip at the skin she just unveiled.]
[The taste of salt flooded her senses first and drawn to the quiet thrum of blood underneath, Diva leaned in again to taste Conrad's skin, pushing his shirt off to one side. After all, what were words when dinner presented itself so delectably in front of her?]