“You think I left you?” I murmur, dragging my thumb along the edge of her lip, just enough pressure to see it bloom darker. “No, little fairy. I was giving you a chance to remember who owns that body. That mouth. That orgasm you stole.”
She moans, just barely, and I watch her eyes flicker like a fuse about to blow.
“Lie back.”
“No.”
I smile. Dark. Filthy. Mine.
I slide my hand down her throat, across the curve of her collarbone, and press just above her chest—not hard, not threatening. Just a warning wrapped in affection. “That wasn’t a request.”
She trembles beneath my touch.
But she leans back against the pillows.
Not because she obeys me out of fear because she needs it as badly as I do, craves it on a cellular level.
And when I part her thighs and drag my gaze over every inch of her ruined resistance, I don’t see victory.
I see possession.
I see what’s mine.
And I’m going to make sure she never forgets again.
Her breath stutters when I lean in.
Not because she’s afraid of what I’ll do.
She knows what’s coming.
And because she wants it.
I don’t kiss her. I inhale her instead. Drag the scent of her skin into my lungs like smoke I’m willing to choke on. My nose brushes the shell of her ear, and she flinches—not from fear, but from need—and it’s that flinch that undoes me.
“You think you earned it?” I whisper against her skin. “You think you get to take what’s mine without paying for it?”
Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
I smile against her jaw.
“Oh no, little fairy. You don’t get to use that mouth to beg yet.”
My hand slips between her thighs, slow, deliberate, fingers hovering—not touching yet. She arches. A whimper, half-formed and feral, cuts from her throat.
“You’re going to wait,” I growl. “And when I let you beg, you’re going to do it properly.”
I grip her hips, pin her down with my body weight, and press my mouth to the inside of her thigh like a benediction turned blasphemy. She shudders. Not from the touch—there isn’t enough of it yet. From the denial. From the tension wrapping around her spine like barbed wire.
Every time her body pulses with need, I don’t give her what she wants. I just breathe against it. Whisper threats she’ll ache to make real.
“You want my mouth here?” I ask, tongue brushing so close she sobs. “Say thank you.”
She doesn’t answer fast enough for my liking.
I pull back.
Her entire body jerks, desperate, ruined.
