Dangerous

I feel his fingers twist into the strands at the nape of my neck, a gentle but possessive gathering. He doesn't pull. He just holds, like he's claiming a handful of something that belongs to him now. My breath catches at the sensation, the intimacy of it, the way it sends a shiver crawling down my spine.

I pause mid-kiss, my lips still pressed against the underside of his shaft. I look up at him through my lashes, letting him see the hunger in my eyes, the way my pupils have swallowed the color.

"That's a dangerous hand you've got there," I murmur against his skin, my voice muffled and low. "You keep holding on like that, I might start to think you're not going to let me go."

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