It flicks again, a little firmer. Teasing.
The contrast is dizzying—softness after sting, warmth after burn. I squirm, suddenly aware of every inch of skin, every beat of my pulse. My body is no longer mine—it’shisto explore, and I want that. I want itso bad.
Being here, with him, whose real identity I don’t even know…honestly?
It adds fuel to the fire of my desire.
Is that a… feather?
But not like some cheesy party-store boa—this is focused, and well thought out. Like he’s painting me with a single plume, dragging it up the cleft of my backside, circling the spot where my thighs meet. It makes every nerve ending flare awake.
“Still green?” he murmurs from behind me.
“Green,” I whisper, trembling.
“Good.”
The feather disappears, replaced by a sudden coolness—silk. He loops a length of it around my thigh, lets it glide downward like a lazy river, the weight of it impossibly sensual. He does it again on the other leg, slower this time, and my breath stutters as he drapes the fabric along my inner thigh. His fingers follow, two knuckles brushing the spot just shy of my core.
I press my hips back toward him, shameless.
But he doesn’t touch me where I want him to. Not yet.
Instead, he moves again. I hear a littlepop—like a bottle being opened—and then something slick and chilled touches the underside of my breast.
I gasp.
The gel—whatever it is—has a strange tingling sensation. Not icy, but…cooling. Electrifying. He smooths it in lazy circles under the swell of each breast, deliberately avoiding my nipples. The contrast of the cold glide and the warm candlelit air has my body arching off the mattress.
And just when I think he might finally suck one of them into his mouth, he pulls back.
I whimper.
Then—buzz.
My breath catches.
It’s faint at first. A low, rhythmic hum against the inside of my right thigh. I twitch.
He doesn’t move it. He doesn’t slide it up or down. He justleaves it there.
The vibration pulses into my skin, not directly on my clit—he’s too cruel for that—butclose enoughthat my body starts to ache for it.
“Oh my God,” I breathe.
He chuckles softly. “Anticipation, baby. It’s everything.”
The toy vibrates against the tender spot where my leg meets my center, coaxing a deeper heat out of me. I don’t realize I’m grinding ever so slightly into the mattress until he presses a hand on the small of my back.
“Don’t move.”
“I can’t help it,” I gasp. “It feels too good.”
“I haven’t evenstartedyet.”
And then the hum clicks off.
The loss makes me whimper again, louder this time.
