Eleanor's POV
I sat here, trembling, my mind racing as I contemplated whether to tell the truth or not.
I already knew it was ice cream on my stomach—cold, sweet, and melting against my skin. But if I admitted it, this intense, electrifying moment would end, and I didn't want it to stop.
Not when every nerve in my body was on fire, my core hot and wet, my senses heightened to a level I'd never experienced before.
"I… I don't know," I finally whispered, my voice shaky.
"That's a good answer," he replied, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down my spine.
My body felt like it was on fire, every inch of me hyper-aware of his presence. My arousal was unbearable—wetness pooling between my thighs, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. Is this how women experience it? This overwhelming, all-consuming need?
"I want to lick it off your stomach," he said, his tone commanding yet laced with desire. "Do I have your permission?"
