Sophia's Point Of View
He was in my hand... thick, hot, pulsing with every breath I stole from him. I felt him twitch against my palm, a sign of surrender, even if his eyes still held the flicker of a fight he didn't have the strength to win.
Poor Davian.
Still trying to convince himself he loved someone else when his body was telling the truth.
I stroked him slower, firmer, savoring the way his jaw tightened and his breath stuttered in my ear. I could feel the way his hips subtly pushed forward, chasing every stroke, every flick of my wrist. The air between us was thick, charged, laced with lust and memories we never buried deep enough.
"You remember this, don't you?" I whispered against his lips, voice velvet soft. "You remember how good it feels when I touch you like this… like I know every part of you."
He didn't answer. But his silence was loud with guilt, with craving. His eyes begged for something he wouldn't name, and I smiled at the ache I saw building in them.
