Frustration clawed its way out of her, and Circe nearly screamed. She glared at him as she shoved at his chest in annoyance.
She wanted to rage at him, but when she opened her mouth, the sound that emerged was closer to a whine than a shout.
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" she accused, narrowing her eyes at him.
He grinned, fangs flashing, wicked and sharp.
"Now, Princess," he drawled lazily, "why on earth would I do that?" He didn't give her time to consider the question. A second later, his fingers resumed their teasing rhythm, faster this time, more intent. The suddenness of it tore a startled moan from her lips as her head tipped back.
It didn't take long for the pattern to reveal itself. He would bring her right to the brink of release, only to withdraw his touch at the last possible moment, denying her that final, shattering release. Each pause left her more wound up, more desperate, her body aching with unfulfilled need.
