Sara Michaels
“Open your mouth.” His deep husky voice echoed. It was so soft like thunder after lightening, it made me squeeze my thighs with lust.
I looked at Kingsley, unimpressed. “Absolutely not.”
His lips twitched playfully, clearly entertained. “Don’t make this difficult, My love...”
“I can feed myself,” I said, crossing my arms as I sat at the edge of the bed, the breakfast tray neatly arranged between us.
“I know you can,” he replied calmly, picking up a slice of fruit anyway. “But I want to.”
“There you go again,” I muttered. “Always wanting things your way.” I tried to sound annoyed, but there was no real heat behind it.
He leaned closer, holding the fruit just inches from my lips. “Just once. Then you can pretend you’re still in control.” His tone was teasing, but his eye
