Leaning forward, I breathe in her scent. The faint smell of roses from this God forsaken place lingers on her skin, along with dust from the shelves next to us. She shivers when my breath touches her ear, my nose brushing against her earlobe. "I bet you're a really, really … good girl." I wait for it, a sense of victory rolling through me when she jolts ever so slightly against me. There it is I think to myself, smirking. My girl likes a little praise. My guess is no one ever gave her any positive encouragement, so now, she has no idea what to do with it, even though she obviously craves it.
