I want to see her beg, her mouth wide open and trembling as she begs me for more, her hands clutching at me for more, that innocent desperation twisting into something dark and untamed. I growl low in my throat, annoyed at the way her emotional reaction sets my thoughts spiraling. She’s making it *so difficult* to think clearly. I *should* be angry with her. She *dropped the spoon*, didn’t she? She *messed up.* And yet… “Enough,” I snap, my voice sharp as a whip. She flinches, her eyes...