She goes back to the bed and sits down, picking up the vibrator again.
She turns it on and my breath catches.
My entire body goes still.
Is she going to?—?
But no. She just holds it.
Presses it against her palm like I showed her, feeling the gentle vibration against her skin.
Studies it with an intensity that makes my chest tight.
Then turns it off and sets it carefully back on the nightstand.
Not tonight.
But she's thinking about it.
I can see it in the way she keeps looking at it.
In the way she touches it again, just briefly, her fingers trailing over the smooth rose gold surface before pulling away.
She's curious, and curiosity is all I need.
I close the laptop before I'm tempted to watch longer.
As I lean back in my chair, I make a decision.
Three days.
I'll give her three days to process what happened.
Three days of space and normalcy and no pressure.
Three days to let the curiosity build until she can't stand it anymore, until it consumes her thoughts, until she has to know if it would feel that good again.
Three days for her to convince herself that asking is her choice.
And then I'll offer more.
Not push. Not demand. Not show up uninvited at her door.
Just offer.
And let her ask.
Because that's the key to all of this. She has to ask. Has to choose. Has to believe it's her decision, her desire, her need.
Even though I'm the one engineering every single step.
Even though I'm manipulating her curiosity, her fear, her desperate need to understand herself.
Even though this is all a carefully constructed trap disguised as liberation.
I check my watch. Nearly midnight.
My phone buzzes on the desk.
