"Not yet," she purred.
His jaw clenched. "Brynn?—"
"Take off your clothes."
Arousal surged through him. The thief giving orders to the Reaper. She'd come back as something new, and now she wanted him on his knees.
He should resist. Should remind her who ruled this realm. Who'd made her scream his name so many times she'd lost count.
Instead, he reached for his shirt.
Her smile was wicked and triumphant. She stepped back to watch as he pulled the fabric off and dropped it to the floor.
"Slower," she commanded.
He hooked his thumbs in his waistband and paused. Held her gaze as he pushed down, inch by torturous inch. The fabric dragged over his hips, his thighs, and his cock sprang free. Hard. Aching. Already leaking at the tip.
Her eyes dropped to his length, and her tongue swept across her lower lip.
"On the bed."
He moved toward the mattress, but her shadows got there first. White tendrils pressed against his chest. They didn't just push. They guided. Owned. Demanded.
They drove him back until his legs hit the bed, and he let himself fall onto the sheets.
Her shadows followed. They slithered up his arms, slow and possessive, and wound around his wrists. Pulled them above his head. Bound him to the headboard with tendrils of pure white light.
He flexed, testing the restraint.
They held.
His shadows surged, ready to tear through the bindings, but he forced them back. Forced himself to submit. To give her this.
The look on her face was worth it. Pure power. Pure satisfaction.
"I knew you could behave," she murmured, climbing onto the bed between his spread thighs.
Brynn
He was beautiful like this.
The most powerful being in the death realm, bound and helpless beneath her. His muscles strained against her shadows, his chest heaving, his cock jutting up thick and flushed and dripping.
She traced her palms up his thighs, nails dragging, leaving red trails on his pale skin. He shivered at the sting, hips lifting slightly.
"Brynn—"
She leaned down and pressed her lips to his inner thigh. Felt the muscle jump beneath her mouth. Trailed higher, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin, until her breath ghosted over his cock.
He groaned. "Please?—"
She pulled back.
"Not yet." Her hand closed around his length, grip firm and sure. She dragged upward, agonizingly slow, watching his face contort. "I'm going to take my time with you."
Her palm smeared through the slick gathering at his tip, spreading it down his shaft until he glistened. He was so hard he throbbed against her fingers. So desperate, his hips tried to thrust into her grip.
She lowered her head and traced the slit with her tongue, gathering every drop.
