Thane closed his eyes and let Delancey’s low, dusky voice wash over him. It was the little things that dulled with time—the sultry sound of sin in her tone, that rich as wine resonance and dark as chocolate timbre. Even the rhythm, the slower than honey cadence, had faded. Day by day, he’d lost it, all of it, until he could barely recall how she’d sounded when she said his name.
~Untitled (The Doms of Kinky, Kansas 2)
No comments:
Post a Comment