083: Conversation With The Prostitute

"Have you ever had anyone lick your butthole, my lord?" The prostitute questioned from where she was kneeling on the floor, facing him, looking at him seductively.

"That's disgusting," Finlay frowned, wanting to jam. His fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time, but could not since he was wearing a black hooded cloak.

"It's not, my lord. A lot of men would kill to have that treatment," the girl let the corners of her lips curve upward.

"Well, I am not a lot of men," he dawned the remains of his ale in one gulp and then slam the cup on the table with a thud. There he was, amid commoners in a lowly tavern and he was under a disguise. It had been two days since his arrival in Easton and he wasn't on speaking terms with his wife.

"Being an Alpha of Alphas is handy, is it not?" Madelyn the prostitute leaned forward, seemingly interested in this powerful man who had asked for her company. Finlay liked the fact that she was bold.

"Why did you ask?" He watched her touch herself through