A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped Dax's lips as her fingers, cool and deliberate, traced a line from his navel downward. He arched his back, his head pressing into the plush velvet chair.
Her touch was pure, undiluted electricity.
She was a vision of controlled power crouched before him, the Queen of a thousand whispered legends. Her gaze, heavy-lidded and knowing, held his as she leaned forward.
The air grew thick, charged with the scent of her perfume and his own raw, mounting need. With a slowness that was its own form of exquisite tyranny, she placed a soft, closed-mouth kiss right at the swollen, aching tip of his cock.
A jolt of pure sensation, bright and sharp, lanced through him. It was a feeling so intense it bordered on pain, a punishment he welcomed with a shudder.
She did it again.
