AMANDA
"Ah—ah—" I moan, rolling my hips against Theodus while he exhales smoke, watching me like I belong to him.
His grip tightens—just enough to remind me he’s in control. His fingers press into my waist, guiding me. I exist for this. For him. That’s what good girls do. I’ll do what he asks.
I roll my hips again, chasing the friction, trying to focus on this. On his touch. His heat. His hands gripping my skin like he owns it.
But I close my eyes—and I see him.
Colt.
My body jerks, a shudder rolling through me that has nothing to do with pleasure. My heart slams against my ribs, a sharp, painful ache that I don’t understand.
Theodus groans, fingers pressing into my skin. "Impatient tonight, aren’t we?" His voice is low, amused, smug.
I don’t answer. I can’t. My heart is pounding
