Little does he know they are the key to making his throat go dry. I notice how his Adam's apple rises with each stroke, how it falls and how it falls after swallowing hard.
How my touch yearns to feel that cycle.
How his breath becomes unstable.
How it weakens.
How with each seemingly insignificant motion of my tiny fingers a shiver runs down his spine and his stomach flutters, turning cold yet warm.
YOU ARE READING
You Honey, You
Любовные романы||My universe will never be the same I'm glad you came||
