Hannibal had a way of bewitching Margaery. He always had. He could drive her to orgasm with his words alone. The sound of his voice, be it a low rumble or a battlecry, made her tremble and weak in the knees.

The way his mouth worked over her sensitive neck made her whimper. She rolled her hips with his, building the friction between them. Margaery moaned as he hit each angle of her wet and aching walls. "Don't stop." She looked into his eyes. "Tell me more. Tell me how you love me. Tell me what you would do for me." She wanted to hear it aloud.