Skin loosened from its own name.
Her grip was the axis of my world, one hand pinning me to the water, the other stroking me into the edge of oblivion. Every motion unspooled me further, every curl of her fingers taught my cock a new language of need.
I wasn’t anything that needed sharp teeth.
I was an offering.
A man unmade.
A body opening its hands and letting the world fall through, willing to lose it all if it meant her touch stayed.
Then. . .her palm lifted from my chest.
My body rose.
My face came back to the surface.
Air tore into me in a ragged gasp, burning down my throat. It was fire poured into empty lungs.
I coughed once, and the sound was low and wet before the relief hit—and it was too much. My vision flared white, not from oxygen, but from the way her other hand never stopped working my cock.
“O-Oh Toraaa!!”
My cock jerked hard in her slick fist, the sudden rush of air turning every nerve raw. The mushroomed tip swelled, tight as a clenched fist, and my balls pulled high against my body.
I was seconds from shooting cum everywhere.
A sound left me—half-growl, half-moan—as my hips tried to thrust against the restraints, chasing her rhythm. My chest heaved, pulling in lungful after lungful of air, but each breath only made the pleasure sharper, the heat more unbearable.
I could feel it—the edge, that thin, trembling place where surrender became eruption. One more stroke and I would spill everything into the water, milky ribbons unfurling between us.
Surrender made visible.
And then she pressed down on my chest again, lowering my face back under water, taking my oxygen away.
Oh fuck!! She really might kill me!
Chapter thirty-four
Breath and Surrender
Kenji
I was back in the water.
The bath accepted me a second time.
I let it.
The leather cuffs remained firm around my wrists.
My heart slowed to her count.
The ceiling broke into ripples.
Candles turned to comets.
Heated liquid braided around me.
