But it wasn’t until I released his hair, raced my fingers along his shoulders, and skated a trembling digit down his spine that I dominated him. Poet’s mouth shook. He sucked in a harsh gust of air, and his frame shuddered against me. How I loved wiping that mouth clean of mockery. How I enjoyed that my touch could do him this harm. I could rule a nation. And I could do this to him. Yet I could not say which felt more powerful.
