Summer slides down and pushes up Mordred’s shirt, kissing there. “What will bring you to surrender to me?” She looks up his body, through her lashes.
He shifts, tensing slightly. “I don’t know.”
Delicately she glides her fingertips upward, following with little flicks of her tongue, and bites at a rib. “I suppose I’ll have to torment you until I find out, then.”