I suck in a breath. "Si, you're killing me."
It's not really a complaint. He's teasing me, going slow, taking his time.
"I know, baby. Don't look away. Watch yourself take my fingers. See how wet you are for me? You're fucking desperate for me. Do you know how hot that is?"
My cheeks burn, but I stare at my reflection, watching her getting fucked. He hikes my leg up and as I watch, he pushes two fat fingers inside my pussy, stretching me, filling me. I cry out, rocking my hips, pleasure building low and insistent.
"Fuck," I breathe. "It feels so good."
He's in my ear, murmuring, "You're so beautiful like this, taking what I give you, trusting me completely, letting me see all of you. You're such a good girl. Such a Pretty Girl."
Those words hit as hard as physical pleasure. My throat tightens. No one has ever said those words to me, let alone meant them. My pussy clamps down on his fingers. He swirls his thumb around my clit and I'm primed like a rocket, ready to blow.
Silas looks on with hooded eyes.
"Keep watching. I want you to see exactly what I see when you fall apart for me."
The mirror reflects everything as release crashes through me, my body convulsing, my eyes locked on our reflection. Iwatch myself shatter in his arms, feeling the most vulnerable yet somehow the safest I've ever been.
Thursday brings blindfolds and ice cubes trailing down heated skin. His mouth follows the cold path, warming each spot until shivers become trembles. Feathers trace patterns that make my muscles jump. His fingers find places that make breathing impossible, his cock reaches that place deep inside me that no one else can touch. Every sensation builds on the last until I'm begging incomprehensibly. But he makes me wait, makes me sob with need before finally, finally giving what my body screams for.
In other words, he blows my freaking mind.
Friday transforms the entire apartment into something else entirely. Candles flicker on every surface when he comes home to find me in his jersey with nothing underneath.
"Fuck." He drops his bag, stalking toward the bed. He admires the jersey, lifting it up with two fingers. When he realizes that I'm bare underneath, his eyes snap to mine. "You wearing this for me?"
I nod, a smirk on my face. "Yes, baby. It's your reward."
"Keep this on," he breathes. "You're such a bombshell."
"Bossy." I climb out of bed and drop to my knees, looking up at him as I reach for the zipper of his jeans. "Show me how you taste, Si."
"You're the perfect woman, Scout." He looks at me like I'm the hottest thing he's ever seen. Plowing his hand into my hair, he says, "Now stick out your tongue and let me take control."
Saturday morning sunlight streams through windows, painting golden stripes across tangled sheets. Soreness marks every muscle in the best way, exhaustion mixing with deep satisfaction.
"How many items did we get through?" The question gets muffled against his chest.
The crumpled list appears from the nightstand. "Seven."
Smiling, I draw figure eights into the bare skin of his abs. Apparently, Silas isn't ticklish. "Not bad for one week."
"We have plenty of time for the rest. No rush." When I glance up, he's smirking. "It's not exactly hard having you here, Scout."
Breathing in his scent, courage builds in my chest again. "This week wasn't just about checking off the list, was it?"
Quiet stretches between us for a beat. "No, it wasn't."
"Then what was it really about?"
"Trust. You trusted me enough to show me that list. You let me see what you want without hiding it. That's a big fucking deal."
"Can I tell you something?" I catch my lower lip between my teeth. "You might not want to hear it. It's awfully relationship-y."
Si considers me. "You can always tell me what's going on in that head of yours."
I suck a breath, gathering all my courage. If I don't say this now, I might never say it. And I hate the idea of Si not knowing how I feel.
