JACK-EYE
Lyre's fingertips touch my jaw. Cold as winter but intent like summer heat. Her other hand presses against my chest, not pushing hard but with enough pressure to make me straighten.
She stands, one fluid motion that has me backing up instinctively. One step forward from her, one step back from me. A dance I'm suddenly not leading. My spine hits the wall before I realize she's maneuvered me across the entire room.
"Rules," she says, voice low and matter-of-fact. "You can't touch me. Can't move. No begging." Her cat-like eyes hold mine, unblinking. "No calling my name. No calling for the Goddess. No prayers."
I snort. Is she serious? I've had my share of wild nights, but she's acting like this kiss might break me.
"Can you follow those rules, Aaron?"
"I think I can handle a kiss without calling for divine intervention." My words sound confident. My dick? Not quite as sure.
It's already painfully hard.
