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He thinks he's won.
He thinks that because I let him inside my body—because I came on his tongue and his cock and his whispered commands—I've surrendered.
He's wrong.
This isn't surrender. This is reconnaissance. This is learning the enemy, finding his weaknesses, finding every crack in his armor.
He showed me something tonight. He showed me how much he wants me. How it makes him shake. How it makes him lose control.
That's information.
That's leverage.
That's a weapon.
I lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
Between my thighs, I still ache with the memory of him.
In my chest, something has cracked wide open that I don't know how to close.
I ignore it.
I have to.
Because this isn't over.
It's only the beginning.
