Mia stepped over the puddle of her discarded skirt, the faint whisper of silk skimming the floor and cool air caressing her newly bared calves, then prowled toward her master with a sinuous, cat‑like swagger worthy of a haughty villainess. She swept her hair back, tucking a few strands behind her long ears—better than any clasp.
Still a few paces from Jett, she asked, "This is a battle I cannot afford to lose or let end in a draw, Master Jett. May I be rougher than usual?"
The sudden shift in her demeanor and the sharp, yearning gleam in her eyes turned Jett on so completely that he could only nod.
Mia's hand shot out and shoved him onto the bed; the mattress dipped beneath his weight. She tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curling into a seductive smile.
