CIAN
In the soft glow of her bedside lamp, Fia's eyes held me captive. The scent of buttercream and cinnamon hung heavy in the air, a sweet promise of what was to come. Her grip on my wrist was firm, a silent command that sent a jolt of electricity straight to my cock.
"I don't hate it," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. Her thumb traced circles on my skin, a motion that was both soothing and maddening.
I let out a low growl, a sound that rumbled in my chest and echoed in the space between us. "You don't have to say that, Fia. I can feel it. Your heart races when I'm close. Your breath hitches when I touch you. Your body responds to mine, even if your mind tries to fight it." I leaned closer, my voice dropping to something darker, more primal. "You're mine to affect. Mine to make tremble."
Her eyes flashed, a spark of defiance that only served to fuel the fire within me. "And what if I do? What if I don't want this?"
