Daemond's hand strokes traveled down. His rough forefinger now trailed down the side of Annica's breast, sweeping over the mound like the brush of a master painter creating a masterpiece. Briefly, the man's thumb rubbed the stiff tip, making Annica catch her breath and giggle softly. Then, without taking his eyes off Annica's blue eyes, Daemond's hand reached down again.
"From now on, when you are in bed with me, I want you to call my name. Daemond. Call me Daemond. Understood?"
Annica did not answer. More precisely, she couldn't answer. Her mind could only think of Daemond's thumb rubbing the nub that was now even more sensitive after her release. All she could do was moan while muttering something incoherent.
"Annica," the man growled once again. "I want to hear you call my name. Come on. Call my name."
