¬ Fashire
Damn that woman.
Going all cold on me like that and demanding I do not speak to her?
I stood outside the bath door, arms crossed, jaw tight, and still tasting her on my tongue.
The brand on my back throbbed dully beneath my shirt as I debated barging in there to make her say something.
My irritation sharpened as the door opened, only for it to vanish that very instant as she stood before me.
The sheer slip she wore was an act of cruelty. Through it, I could see the curve of those breasts, the dark peaks of her nipples, the dip of her waist, and the shadow between her thighs.
My mouth went dry.
She didn't even glance at me.
She walked past me as if I wasn't there, her damp hair leaving a trail of water droplets on the floor. Not a flicker of emotion crossed her face as she made her way to the vanity and sat down, rubbing the small towel over her hair.
My cock stirred immediately, rising with an eagerness that was frankly humiliating.
