“Two,” I choke out as his tongue swirls again, this time dipping lower to lap at my entrance.
He presses his tongue flat against me, dragging it upward in a slow, deliberate stroke, the friction sending sparks through my core, my inner thighs quaking as my arousal drips down.
“Three,” I moan as he grazes my clit again, his lips brushing with agonizing precision, flicking the tip of his tongue in quick, teasing darts that make my pussy clench, the pressure building like a coil winding tighter.
He alternates—sucking my clit with soft pulls, then circling it with the pointed tip of his tongue, each motion calculated to edge me higher, the wet sounds of his mouth on me filling the room, mixed with my ragged breaths.
“Tell me where you are,” he says, breath hot against my slick lips, his fingers gripping my inner thighs, holding me open, thumbs pressing just enough.
“Almost,” I whimper, voice breaking. “So… so damn close.”
He dives in again, his tongue thrusting against my entrance before retreating to suck my clit hard, rolling it between his lips.
My pussy throbs, walls fluttering, slickness coating his chin, the scent of my arousal thick and heady. He edges me multiple times, each one more intense than the last, his technique varying between long, languid licks that cover every inch of my pussy, then unbearable, rapid flicks on my clit, one hand sliding up to pinch my nipple through my blouse, twisting just enough to spike the pleasure.
“Please, sir, let me come on your tongue,” I beg, my voice raw and desperate, my body a quivering wreck. My clit throbs, swollen and hypersensitive, my pussy dripping, every nerve screaming for release.
His tongue’s teasing flicks have left me on the edge, his sudden pause shocking me, a jolt of denial that makes my core clench painfully, slickness coating my thighs.
My hips buck, chasing his mouth, but he holds me firm against the conference room table, the cold stone grounding my trembling frame.
He stands, wiping my juices slowly from his lips and face.
“You don’t get to come,” Damien says calmly, his dark blue eyes ablaze with control. “That’s your punishment. You denied me earlier, now you pay the price.”
My breath catches. I’m dizzy with need and thrilled by his dominance, desperate to please. My clit pulses, aching for his touch, my body a live wire under his command.
He unties the red ribbon, freeing my wrists.
“Do you want to come?” he taunts, sweet in a cruel way. “Earn it. Make me an offer I can’t refuse.”
His comm buzzes before I can answer. “Escort’s ready,” he says. “Ninety minutes. Private entrance. Stay on my arm.”
He leads me from the conference room, his hand firm on my back, guiding me to the lobby. There, he ties the red ribbon back around my wrist. “Think of ways to earn what you want on the drive,” he tells me. I nod, hating the tease but loving the fire it sparks, my pussy clenching at the challenge.
In the back of the SUV, guard at the wheel, I shift my focus to Clara, my heart pounding with hope and fear.
The ribbon burns on my wrist with Damien’s rules, wrapping me tight in a habit I crave despite myself.
CHAPTER 20
CASSANDRA
We take the private entrance the hospital reserves for donors and VIPs. I am neither. I am a girl with a visitor band around one wrist and a red ribbon around the other.
“Ninety minutes,” Damien reminds me at the elevator.
“I know,” I say, touching the ribbon at my wrist. It’s strange how quickly it’s become a comfort to me to have it there. The doors open with a soft ding.
The ICU hallway hums. The air smells like bleach and coffee that’s been sitting on a burner too long. I give my name at the desk.
“Clara Hewitt was moved from ICU this morning,” the nurse says, checking her screen. “Vitals were stable, and she’s no longer under sedation.” She looks up and gives me a warm smile.
The tension that was wrapped around my body loosens. “Her room number?”
“Room 423,” she says.
I get back on the elevator and take it to the fourth floor. I hurry to her room, stopping at the doorway to take her in.
