Serena Blackwood gazed down at Elias Kane in his submissive posture, even though it had been forced upon him through her threats and coercion. Yet a powerful wave of satisfaction washed over her, deeper and more intoxicating than the thrill of securing her very first major project in her younger years. The sight of him yielding like this, however unwillingly, sent a quiet thrill through her veins that no business victory had ever matched.
She reached out, petting his hair with the slow, possessive rhythm one might use on a favored cat. His strands felt incredibly smooth, flowing like liquid silk between her fingers—impossible to fully grasp yet so pleasurable to touch that each glide sent a subtle shiver of delight through her. The texture was perfect, almost addictive.
