Chapter 867 – I Want You to Smell Like Me
He didn't speak, but his head fell back against the tiled rim, his throat exposed. The muscles in his jaw tightened.
"I want you to smell like me," she continued, her voice a low, hypnotic hum. She leaned in, her breath warm against his neck. "Like cinnamon, and old parchment, and the storm before it breaks."
She stroked him again, twisting her wrist at the head, her thumb smearing the slick fluid gathering there.
He was hard now, pulsing in her grip, a silent, aching admission of her power over him.
With her free hand, she nudged his chin up, forcing him to meet her gaze. His eyes, usually so full of cocksure amusement, were dark and unfocused, pools of molten gold drowning in sensation.
"Look at me," she commanded softly.
