The nightshift was bunched high now, barely covering anything. The vines seemed to sense it, trembling with anticipation. The warmth in her chest pulsed, reaching for him with embarrassing eagerness. Her body had already betrayed her, arching into his touch, breath coming fast, skin flushed with want.
But it was more than that, more than just the warmth that craved his touch. She wanted it, a thought that both startled and unsettled her.
"Still so veryrestless." He smiled against her throat. "All that energy with nowhere to go."
His hands dropped to her thighs, fingers tracing where the vines held her. "Shall I exhaust you so thoroughly you can't think about anything else?"
The vines began to move, adjusting their hold. Her arms were drawn back slightly, wrists bound behind her now. The position thrust her chest forward, making her even more vulnerable.
With deliberate slowness, he hooked his fingers in the nightshift's neckline and pulled. The silk tore easily, the sound loud in the quiet room. Cool air hit her skin, and she gasped.
"Much better." His eyes tracked over her with dark satisfaction. "No more barriers. No more pretense. Just you, held by my forest, waiting for whatever I decide to give you."
The vines pulsed against her skin, warm and alive and patient. Just like their master, they could hold her like this for hours, until she broke, or begged, or both.
"Now," Eliam said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "Let me show you what complete surrender feels like."
Chapter twenty-five
He circled her slowly, drinking in the sight while the vines adjusted their hold, spreading her legs wider, making her back arch further. His fingers trailed along her collarbone, down between her breasts, across her stomach—light touches that made her skin prickle with anticipation.
"Already so wet," he observed, his hand finally moving between her thighs, fingers gliding through her slickness. "Your body was ready before I even touched you properly. Just from the vines holding you. Just from knowing what's coming."
He pushed two fingers inside without warning, and she gasped at the sudden intrusion. Not rough, but insistent, claiming. His thumb found her clit as his fingers began to move, setting a rhythm that made her hips try to follow despite the vines holding her still.
His fingers moved with maddening precision, finding exactly the rhythm that made her thighs shake, that made her breath come in needy little gasps. But every time she got close to the edge, he'd slow down, lighten his touch.
"Already trying to come and we've barely started,” he murmured against the curve of her throat. “But that's not how this game works."
The vine around her breast tightened and released in waves, while smaller ones traced patterns on her skin, marking her in ways she couldn't see but could feel burning into her awareness.
"You come when I allow it," he continued, fingers curling inside her causing her vision to blur. "If I allow it. Depending on how well you surrender."
She tried to rock against his hand, yearning for more, but the vines held her perfectly still. She could only take what he gave, only feel what he allowed.
"That's it," he praised as she stopped fighting the restraints. "Accept it. Let your body show me how it yields."
The position, bent slightly forward, arms bound behind her, legs spread, made her feel like an offering. Something presented for his pleasure. The thought should have shamed her, but instead that warmth in her chest pulsed approval.
His free hand came around to palm her breast where the vine wasn't touching, thumb brushing over her peaked nipple. Her breathing hitched, escaping in small, erratic gasps. The feel of his fingers inside her, his hand on her breast, the vines everywhere else, was overwhelming.
"I can feel you clenching around my fingers," he observed. "Trying to keep me inside."
He withdrew his fingers slowly, and she whimpered at the loss. But before she could protest, she felt something else—a vine, thicker than the others, pressing against her entrance.
"Have you wondered," he asked softly, as if he wasn't about to violate her with his forest, "what else my vines can do? How deep they can go? How full they can make you feel?"
The vine pressed forward just slightly, barely breaching her, and she gasped at the strange sensation. It was warm, almost hot, and she could feel it pulsing with life.
"They're part of me," he continued, the vine pushing deeper with agonizing slowness. "Extensions of my will. When they're inside you,I'minside you. Feeling what they feel. Knowing exactly how your body grips, how wet you are, how eager you are to be filled."
The vine was thicker than his fingers, stretching her in a way that bordered on too much. But her body adjusted, accepted, even welcomed the invasion.
"Perfect," he breathed when it was fully seated. "Look at you. Taking my forest like you were made for it."
The vine began to move, slow and deep, and she lost the ability to think. It seemed to know exactly how to angle itself, how to hit every sensitive spot. And unlike fingers or flesh, it could change, thickening when she needed more, adding texture that made her whole body sing.
"This is what complete surrender looks like," Eliam said, his hands roaming her body while the vine worked inside her. "No control. No choice. Just sensation and submission."
