Noelle's legs tremble as I lift them up, his eyes pleading for more. But I resist the urge to dive in, deciding to take my time, savoring every moment of his anticipation. Because I can. His body belongs to me, and teasing him like this—making him wait, watching him squirm—fills me with a primal satisfaction.
I start by kissing his left ankle, slow and deliberate, then the right, trailing a series of wet, languid kisses up both legs. Each one deliberately slow, each one messy and teasing, drawing out the tension. I feel his muscles tense under my lips as I take my time, my mouth inching closer to where he really wants me.
"Thorne…" Noelle's voice comes out in a strangled moan, frustration thick in his tone.
I hide my smile, continuing the torment, moving at a pace that must be maddening for him. I let out a low hum, pretending I'm entirely focused on my task. I kiss up to his inner thigh, my lips barely grazing his skin.
