Mara.
I moaned as Lucian trailed the feather across my skin—a barely-there sensation that left heat in its wake.
It was maddening, like a phantom touch. I craved the weight of his hands, the press of his body, but he remained just out of reach.
His expression gave away nothing. That calm, unreadable mask only made me burn more.
He circled each n****e with slow precision, never touching—just circling, teasing, denying. I arched into it, desperate, silently begging for more.
Still, he refused.
The feather dipped lower, brushing over my stomach, skimming my navel. My legs were already spread, but I tried to open them further, needing something—anything—more.
“Touch me,” I moaned, breath breaking.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he leaned in close, his lips hovering by my ear. I waited fo
