Dalma's POV
His hands grabbed me by the waist, keeping me steady on my feet by sheer strength….
He spoke to me in a silky voice, phrases flowing into themselves.
“May I?” He asked, holding a button of my shirt in between his fingers.
My breath came out in fast, harsh exhales.
I nodded, unable to form words, agreeing to whatever he was asking.
“I need you to use your words, Miss Millie,” he murmured.
I grew wetter with every word, I could feel myself dripping.
“I'm asking you again, May I?” His eyes locked on mine, waiting.
“Yes, yes, please,” I replied with a voice I could have sworn wasn't mine.
“Good girl,” he replied, unbuttoning my shirt with deliberate slowness. I was enveloped by his scent, his voice, his essence.
He held my chin softly like he was holding delicate fine
