The Alpha King's Breeder
His gaze follows my hands as I smooth my skirt down over my hips, then my thighs, until it falls in a heap of fabric at my ankles.
“Everything,” he says, his eyes lifting to mine, glassy with a feral, animalistic kind of heat.
I keep my eyes on his while shimmying out of my panties, stepping away from them, totally and completely exposed. My hair falls over my shoulders in messy waves, tickling my breasts as I heave a breath. Soren’s sweep of my naked body is so heated my skin could blister.
“Now turn and face the wall,” he commands, his voice steady, unwavering, and utterly serious.
Bab Populer