Pip Caulfield dominates Benoit Ulliel with a grip that leaves no doubt, his hands wrapping tight around the smaller man’s waist as he pins him to the seat. Ulliel’s jaw clenches, muscles straining against the restraint, while Pip’s voice cuts through the tension, low and commanding. The air thickens when Pip’s fingers dig into the back of Ulliel’s neck, pulling his head back just enough to expose the throat beneath.
