The sound that broke from her lips was not a gasp. It was not a sob. It was a moan.
It was a deep, guttural, primal sound ripped from the very core of her being. It was the sound of a decade of stifled desire being released in a single, explosive catharsis. It was the sound of armor falling away, of chains shattering, of a prisoner finally being set free. It was the sound of pure, unadulterated submission, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard.
Her body went limp. Her hands, which had been clenched in her lap, fell open, her palms up in a gesture of absolute offering. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she would have collapsed to the floor if not for my hands still holding her head up, holding her to me.
She was still on her knees. And she was moaning. I had not yet kissed her, had not touched her breasts, had not even come close to the core of her sex.
This was merely the work of my hands. A promise of the heavens I was about to show her.
***
