Terrell's POV
I stood frozen like a goddamn statue, watching Angel explore her own body with the kind of innocent curiosity that should be illegal.
My cock throbbed painfully against my trousers, demanding attention, demanding release, demanding I march over there and show her exactly what that wetness meant.
Control had never been an issue for me. A thousand years of life had taught me iron discipline. I'd stood in the midst of battles without flinching, had negotiated treaties while bored out of my mind, had endured torture without breaking.
But this?
This was a special kind of torment.
Usually when I got this hard, I was already buried inside a woman, taking my pleasure with the efficient brutality that had become my signature. Hours of hard thrusts, a release, and I was done. No lingering. No tenderness. Just scratching an itch.
