The steam curled around me like a shroud as I stepped out of the bathroom, the scent of sandalwood and fresh water replacing the musk of the previous night. I had scrubbed until my skin tingled, my mind focused on one singular goal: Total Subjugation.
To own the streets, I had to own the woman who ran them, and my only weapon was the raw, unyielding power of my cock.
Monet was waiting. She was sprawled in the center of the bed, her dark limbs stark and beautiful against my white sheets. Her legs were draped over the side, her heels digging into the mattress as she arched her back, the crimson lace of her bra straining against her chest.
She smiled, a slow, predatory curve of her red lips. "You surely took your time," she purred.
"I wanted to give you my body at its best, Monet," I replied, my voice a low, resonant thrum.
