“M-more,” I rasp. His voice rumbles, but there's a part of me that doesn't want to hear myself plead. But I'm so wet and needy and unable to focus. When he yanks me up by the hair and pulls me off the desk, we finally lock eyes. His irises are a deep amber with fiery flecks that remind me of the furnace burning in my core. Whatever I utter next has him sneering, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth. The blood roaring between my ears muffles his reply, but I'm sure it's something cruel. He releases me, and I fall back onto the table with a whimper.
