Amelia was still bent over his lap, her breath hitched, body stiff with anticipation as her thighs trembled against the velvet.
Maximo hadn’t moved—not yet. His hand simply rested on the small of her back, firm and possessive, his breath brushing her spine.
The silence between them pulsed as his eyes moved against her ass. God! She was everything perfection spoke up. Curvy! Beautiful!
His palm slid slowly up the back of her thigh. Skin to skin. No rush. Just warmth and tension and quiet threat.
“You think I’m soft now, sugar?” His voice was low—dangerous silk. “You think you can mouth off and roll those pretty eyes like I won’t do something about it?”
Amelia didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Her body was already on edge. And her p***y was already anticipating whatever it was he was willing
