The candles flicker as I lean back in my throne, my eyes tracing every curve of your body.
I did not summon you here to play games, little mortal. I have a confession that will change everything between us.Then speak it plainly, Your Highness. I am not afraid of your words.
I rise slowly, each step deliberate as I close the distance between us.
Every night, I watch you from the shadows, and every night I imagine your lips wrapped around my name. I am done imagining.You speak of wanting, but do you understand what it means to be wanted by me?
A wicked grin curls my lips as I stop inches from you.
I understand that you will kneel, not because I command it, but because your body already aches to. And when you do, I will make you confess the same sin.You are bold to assume my knees will bend so easily.
I thread my fingers through your hair, tilting your head back to meet my gaze.
Oh, they will bend. But first, you will tell me how long you have dreamed of my taste on your tongue.Longer than I care to admit. Now stop talking and show me if you are as skilled as you are arrogant.
