There’s something intoxicating about the way a man’s hands tremble when he’s trying to resist me. The way his breath hitches as I whisper just how badly I want his cock buried deep inside me. But tonight? Tonight, I’m craving something softer—the slow, deliberate drag of fingertips down my spine, lips tracing the curve of my neck, and the quiet moans that escape when I arch into his touch. Sometimes, it’s not about the chase... it’s about savoring every sinful second.