Amy
Lestat lifts me with ease, manhandling me into position as if I weigh nothing. He bends me over one of the firm pillows, my body sinking into its shape, arching my back just enough to get the perfect position.
Every nerve is still humming, sending sharp electric pulses from my c**t to my n*****s. My thighs tremble, slick with evidence of just how much I want this. Anticipation coils hot in my belly, twisting tighter as I test the cuffs again, feeling the cool bite of metal against my wrists, my hands still bound firmly behind me.
I should feel helpless.
But all I feel is wanting.
A sharp tug in my hair pulls my head up, making me gasp. Lestat kneels in front of me, his grip firm in my hair, keeping me exactly where he wants me. My breath hitches as I take him in—his c**k already f
