My words made him shiver, and I could feel the way his body tensed, like he was clinging to my praise, needing it as much as air. I kissed along his cheekbone, little tender kisses one after the other, savoring the faint salt of his skin. My lips trailed to his jaw, and then back to his cheek again, slow and unhurried.
When I finally pulled back, I looked at him. His eyes… those wide, soft, doe-like eyes stared up at me, glowing with devotion. They were glassy, filled with hunger, but underneath the hunger there was loyalty, submission, and trust. His lips were parted, his breaths uneven, like he couldn’t control himself but was still holding back because I hadn’t given him permission. That look—the way he was waiting—ignited something inside me.
“But it’s not quite time yet,” I purred,
