The fact that he'd get some pleasure from her rather delectable body was just a side benefit. But he knew that he would be getting more than just simple, corporeal pleasure.
He would be getting the satisfaction of conquering that which had not yet been conquered—fact that was made more potent by the power he knew he had over her.
He could sway her mind as he wished. He could command her to do his absolute bidding and she would not falter. That rapt adoration that dripped from her eyes whenever she looked at him—that was his undoing. It made him feel powerful and it provided him with a drug so strong it inundated his senses in an astounding euphoria.
He hadn't banked on that when he'd first approached her. He hadn't even given her much thought, if he were honest with himself.
But once he'd introduced himself to her, once he'd insinuated himself in her life, he'd realized just how potent her brand of hero-worship was. Because in her eyes, he could do no wrong.
The misguided little chit. A smile probed at his lips at the thought. He'd given her the one thing she craved—attention—and she'd laid her heart at his feet, offering to do anything to keep him happy.
She'd turned, one might argue, into the perfect pet—cute, adoring, and loyal to a fault.
He'd whispered a compliment here, a nicety there, and she'd been putty in his hands, all sense leaving her.
She'd stopped worrying about their age difference, or about the secrecy he'd sworn her to, and she'd definitely stopped complaining about the degrading things he would often make her do. After all, she had one purpose—to please. And she was nothing if not obliging.