His voice, however, was utterly velvety—if an upholstered wrecking ball
could be called velvety. “I won’t need to try, my dear. My touch will burn away his.”
She couldn’t breathe.
“You were always quiet in his bed,” he went on, “but you won’t be in mine. You will scream with pleasure—and you will do it again and again.

Author: Sherry Thomas