“You’re perfect,” he tells me, and the words hit somewhere deeper than my skin.
He nudges my legs apart with his thigh. His hand dips between them. “Mmmm,” he hums against my ear. “Soaking for me, aren’t you?”
Then his fingers slide inside me, and I swear my soul leaves my body.
“I can’t help it,” I choke out, trembling.
He doesn’t slow down. He’s relentless, pumping his fingers with a pace that makes me lose myself, makes my voice climb louder and louder until I don’t even recognize the sounds coming out of me.
“D-Drago,” I cry, helpless.
The chains rattle against the metal above my head as I squirm, fighting the rise of my climax, fighting the way my body wants to give him everything.
“You don’t come until I give you permission,” he orders.
“But—”
His eyes snap to mine, and he grips my face, his fingers digging into my jaw, taking my breath away.
“I think you mean yes, sir,” he reminds me.
My mouth snaps shut as he eases his pace, slowing just enough to make me ache.
“Yes, sir,” I breathe.
His smile is pure sin.
“Good girl.” His lips graze mine. “I want to enjoy you thoroughly.”
I bite down on my tongue as he goes back to kissing every inch of me, from my throat, my collarbone, my chest, like he’s memorizing me.
Then he drops to his knees. And something inside me shifts. Because being here… even restrained… even giving him this kind of power, it isn’t scary. It isn’t triggering. It’s healing.
The fear doesn’t exist when I’m in his hands.
When he’s in control, my mind doesn’t slip back into the dark. It stays right here. In the present. In sensation. In him.
He worships me. He drags me back to life, makes me forget pain ever existed… and then teaches me who I can be without it. He hooks my legs over his shoulders and takes my weight easily, his hands gripping my ass to hold me still and right where he wants me.
My mouth falls open. My eyes flutter shut.
Water sprays over us in chaotic streams as he feasts on me like a man starving.
My hips buck against him as I fight every desperate need to fall apart, the chains rattling again, my body shaking hard with the effort of holding back.
His moans fill the air; he’s getting off on the fact that he’s the one doing this to me.
And it makes everything worse. Hearing how turned on he is by me. Feeling how much he wants it.
Fuck.
It’s powerful.
It’s consuming.
And I’m right on the edge, shaking, drenched, breathless. Trying so hard not to break until he lets me.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
