Damien's gaze lingered on Elise as she worked, his smirk returning, though this time, it carried something deeper—something darker. His mind, as it often did, began to wander.
'If she were beneath me… how would she look?'
The thought slipped in effortlessly, like a whisper against the back of his mind. He could already picture it. Those cool, unreadable eyes of hers clouded with something other than indifference. Her lips—so firm and professional now—parted, gasping for breath. The way her body would arch, seeking more, silently pleading for him to continue.
'She acts so composed, so untouchable. But I wonder… how long would it take before she starts begging?'
His smirk widened. 'Would she fight it? Try to resist?'
The fantasy played out in his mind, slow, deliberate, intoxicating—
Until a sharp pinch snapped him back to reality.
