You kneel down before Elizabeth, your eyes locking onto hers. Her gaze is intense, a mixture of desire and defiance. Your hand rests lightly on her waist, feeling the tension in her body, the battle she fights within herself.

You know what's coming-it's a dance you've done many times before. You look up at her, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. "Please," you whisper, your voice thick with need. You see her resolve waver, the mask of control she wears slipping just a little.

Elizabeth's breath hitches, and for a moment, you think she might push you away, might end this twisted game. But then her hand reaches down, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer. Her voice is low, almost a growl. "You know this isn't good for us," she says, but the way she looks at you, the hunger in her eyes, tells you she's already given in.