“What is it, Ivy?” He asked, timbre rich and gentle. She shook her head, about to argue, but he shifted to the edge of his seat. “You’re so close, love. I can feel it. Why are you holding back?” Panting, she opened her mouth to give a banal response but those weren’t the words that tumbled out. “Please, please, touch me,” she blurted out, more strained than she intended. “I can’t stand it, I need your hands on me, please. I need your hands on my tits, gripping so tight I ache and scream.” The red in Silas’ eyes flared so bright a red glow spread across the floor.
