Cornelia's POV
My throat went dry as I stared at David's arousal. It wasn't massive, but the length was impressive, with a subtle curve that made my pulse quicken. The tip was flushed a deep pink, with moisture already beading at the crown.
"I can tell you're admiring the view," he rasped, his voice pulling my gaze back to his face, "but I'm in serious need of relief here. This is starting to hurt."
I gave a slow nod and rose from the chair. My instinct was to drop to my knees, but David's hand shot out to stop me.
"Not happening." I met his eyes with a questioning look.
He shook his head firmly, stepping closer to me. "You don't kneel."
"Why not?"
His expression grew serious as he guided me back onto the chair, his fingers threading through my hair before his knuckles grazed my cheekbone. "Because you shouldn't have to kneel, Cornelia. Not for any man, not for anyone. You carry yourself with dignity and strength. Kneeling would diminish that."
