Vivienne was breathless from her release, her chest rising and falling like she had just run a marathon barefoot. Sweat clung to her skin, her lips parted, her face flushed with heat and humiliation. She thought that maybe, finally, it was over. That he had gotten what he wanted, and he would stop torturing her now.
But of course not.
Things didn't come to an end as she had hoped. Instead, they only got worse. Much worse.
André leaned down again, his lips brushing her skin with the slow patience of a man savoring a last meal. He began kissing her—so, so slowly. Every inch of her trembling body.
Vivienne's skin crawled and burned at the same time. She wanted to push him off, to scream, to kick his stupidly beautiful face into the wall, but her wrists were tied tight above her head. She was trapped, helpless, nothing but prey under his mouth.
He kissed her stomach slowly, each press of his lips like fire, his tongue warm and soft.
