"Do you mean that?" she asks, her voice soft but steady. "Am I really your queen?"
I don't hesitate. "Yes." The word comes out rougher than I intended, scraped raw with emotion.
Something shifts in her expression. The smile curling on her lips turn just a shade more devious than before.
She slides further up the desk, and tilts her chin up. "Shouldn't you be on your knees for your queen, then?"
My breath catches in my throat at her words. Heat spears through my body and goes straight to my dick as I obey. The wooden floor is hard beneath my knees, but I barely notice as I look up at her.
I've spent my entire life commanding others, making men kneel before me. Yet here I am, willingly dropping to my knees for this woman without a second thought.
And fuck if it doesn't turn me on more than I thought possible.
"What would my queen have me do?" I ask, my voice a low rumble.
She opens her legs and tells me: "Your queen wants you to make her scream."
My cock hardens instantly at her command. I reach up to slide my hand under her sweater, but she stops me.
"No," she says. "I want to stay dressed. I want to feel what it's like to have the pakhan between my legs while I'm still fully clothed."
The idea of it—her fully dressed while I worship her on my knees—nearly makes me groan out loud. I slide my hands up her calves, and feel the familiar contours of her legs underneath her leggings.
I kiss her ankle first, then slowly work my way up her calf, feeling her shiver beneath my lips. When I reach her knee, I switch to the other leg, giving it the same treatment. Her breathing quickens as I take my time, savoring every inch of her skin.
I kiss my way up Indigo's legs. Up her thighs, past the crisscrossing network of scars hiding under the thin materials. Even though I can't see them, my lips know where they are. And when I move up them, a surge of anger and anguish moves through me. Each mark is a reminder of her pain, of what was done to her. But also of her strength and how she survived everything and still found the capacity to love.
I press my lips over the fabric hiding each scar, a silent promise that no one will ever hurt her again. Not while I'm here.
"Slow down," Indigo tells me, her fingers tangling in my hair. "Let me savor this."
I obey immediately, deliberately slowing my pace. I trace the inside of her thigh with my tongue, coming close to her center before veering away. She makes a frustrated sound that turns into a gasp when I nip at the sensitive skin where her thigh meets her hip.
I continue teasing her, getting closer and closer to her pussy with each kiss, each lick. Her scent is intoxicating, making my mouth water with want. But I hold back, making her wait, making her want it more.
Her fingers tighten in my hair, tugging slightly as if to guide me where she wants me. But I resist, continuing my slow torture as I kiss everywhere but where she needs me most.
I kiss my way up Indigo's thighs, lingering at the junction where her legs meet her torso. Her breathing is heavy now, little gasps escaping her lips each time I get close to where she wants me. I trace the outline of her hip bones with my tongue, savoring the way her body trembles beneath me.
Looking up at her, I'm struck again by how beautiful she is. Her hair is tousled, falling in wild strands to frame her flushed face. Her eyes are half-lidded with desire as she watches my every move. I slide my fingers under the waistband of her leggings and feel the heat radiating from her skin.
"May I?" I ask, my voice rough with need.
A mischievous smile plays on her lips. "What if I say no?"
I press my forehead against her stomach, breathing in her scent. "Then I'll beg for it," I tell her without hesitation. "I'll kneel here and plead with you until you change your mind."
To prove my point, I press my lips to her belly.
"I'll stay here forever if I have to," I murmur against her skin, pushing her thighs wider with gentle pressure. "On my knees before you, waiting for you to let me in."
My hands stroke the outside of her thighs, feeling the muscle beneath the soft fabric.
"Please," I whisper, not above begging for this woman. "Let me taste you. Let me worship you the way you deserve."
She moans then and it sounds so damn sweet that my cock strains painfully against my pants. Her head falls back to expose the elegant line of her throat, and I fight the urge to stand and mark it with my teeth.
"Yes," she breathes, the single word filled with need and command all at once.
