He wanted her to beg for it.
He leaned forward, bracing his weight on his forearms. His rigid length pressed flush against her wet entrance. He teased the sensitive folds, denying her the deep friction she craved.
Elara's glass-bead eyes were dark. The usual analytical clarity was clouded with a thick, intoxicating haze of lust.
She shifted her hips upward, chasing the pressure.
Julian pulled back just an inch.
"Patience, Your Majesty," he rumbled.
He reached down. His thumb found the swollen, glistening pearl of her core.
He pressed firmly, rubbing a slow, agonizing circle.
Elara's back bowed off the bed. Her hands gripped the silk sheets, her knuckles turning stark white.
"Julian," she breathed. It sounded dangerously close to a plea.
"Tell me you want it," he demanded softly.
He increased the pace of his thumb. A slick, wet sound echoed in the quiet room as he worked her folds.
