"Please, Sir... please let us taste it..."
Vivienne's voice was a ragged, high-pitched plea that barely sounded human.
Jennifer, watching through the freezing glass, felt a jolt of pure electricity shoot up her spine. Her mother's face was a mask of desperation, her eyes wide and wet, fixed on the man's lap with a hunger that was frankly terrifying.
Beside her, Helena was nodding frantically, her tongue darting out to lick her parched lips as if she were staring at the only water in a desert.
The masked man didn't move. He sat there like a dark emperor, savoring the sight of two of the most powerful women in the country begging for the privilege of serving him.
A slow, triumphant smile curled his lips.
"Such good little sluts," he murmured, his deep voice vibrating through the room and the glass alike. He leaned back, spreading his legs a fraction wider in a casual, dominant invitation. "Go ahead. Show me how much you want it."
The green light hit them like a physical shock.
