My Reluctant Plaything
“You think you can just take control? That I’ll kneel for you?”
“No,” Noah said, swallowing hard. “I want to be the one on top. I want to make you mine, not the other way around, at least for a little while.”
A flicker of something wild crossed Blackwell’s eyes. “Earn it,” he said, voice low, rough, a growl at the back of his throat. “If you want me to kneel for you, to submit, to—” He paused, lips brushing the shell of Noah’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “You’ll have to make me.”