I lock eyes with Leona, her face flushed, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. There's something about the way she looks at me—half dazed, half incredulous—that makes me feel like I've just been handed the universe on a silver platter.
"Do I look okay?" she murmurs, her voice soft and breathy. Her eyes droop slightly, exhaustion mingling with the aftershocks of her pleasure.
"You look incredible, Siren," I say, brushing her hair away from her damp forehead. "You're absolutely perfect."
She tries to lift her head but gives up, groaning. "I can't move a muscle. You've turned me into a puddle. Literally." She flops back onto the pillows, her gaze shifting to the ceiling as she breathes heavily.
That's fine. I'll do all the work.
