“Oh, fuck. Please.”
I have no idea what I’m pleading for, but whatever it is, I fucking want it.
A pleased smirk alights her lips, but she doesn’t lessen the pressure on my leaking cock.
“Please, what, Levi?”
At the sound of my name on her lips, spoken in that sultry tone, my heart gives a flutter I’ll allow myself to be anxious about later.
“Please…”
Unsatisfied, she digs her heel in again, making me wince even as my dick grows that much harder.
“Please,what?”
It’s a question I still don’t have an answer to.
“... More. Please. Ma’am.”
Ma’am? Where the fuck did that come from?
Her lips tighten ever so slightly, as if trying to suppress the slight curling at the corner of her mouth.
That mere whisper of a smile tells me right then and there, I’d fucking do anything to earn this woman’s praise. And if I weren’t in the highest state of arousal I’ve ever been in, I’d be more concerned, but as fate would have it...
Violette removes her foot from my dick, making it spring back up as if to follow her. Her eyes lick up the length of my body before she holds my gaze and forms words that cause my brain to short-circuit.
“Good boy.”
Lips parting, my breath escapes me in a ragged groan.
Her grin widens. “Is that what you want? Would you like to be my good boy?”
My throat works as some uncomfortable and unfamiliar feeling wriggles and tightens in my chest, and it takes me a few moments to recognize what it is.
Vulnerability.
Not merely physical vulnerability, but emotional.
Still, the answer rings crystal clear despite my anxiety.
A resoundingyes.
She must recognize the fear behind my gaze—something I haven’t felt in so very long—because the malicious delight decorating her features immediately softens. I’ve taken my life into my hands and that of my brothers-at-arms countless times. I’ve been shot, stabbed, had shrapnel embedded in more than one place of my body, and I’ve come face-to-face with death on more than one occasion.
But this powerful and breathtaking woman’s softness being directed at me makes my heart slam so hard inside its cage, I’m certain it’ll break free.
Violette kneels beside my hips, sitting on the backs of her thighs.
With a single finger, she strokes the curve of my jaw, bestowing me with a look of both compassion and admiration. “Look how magnificent you are.”
Her fingertip drifts from my jaw to the vertical scar marring the left side of my mouth, down to the keloid scar on my neck, before finally falling to the peppering of round scars decorating my chest and side.
“You’ve survived so much. Always in control. Always so strong. Never vulnerable.”
Her fangy grin widens.
“Until now…”