"You bastard!" Daphne hotly yelled, her face flushed red. She couldn't even tell if it was embarrassment, anger, lust, or an unholy mix of all three. All she knew was that Atticus's coy smiles and subtle teases left trails of fire all over her skin.
He was going to burn her alive and she would still gladly let his flames consume her.
His strong hands came to her buttcheeks, grabbing them with a slight squeeze, an action that caused Daphne to jolt a little. The slight bit of movement — paired with how closely they were positioned right next to each other — caused her to rub herself against the tent in his trousers.
That brief bit of friction caused her to hiss out in pleasure, whining when the fabric was no longer rubbing against her skin.
"If only you could see your reflection now," Atticus commented, smirking.
