As I reach her inner thighs, I move the sponge higher, tracing the curve of her hip. Her eyes open and our gazes lock, a current of terrified longing passing between us.
We need no words. The silence says it all. Like a feather on snow, I continue to explore her body, my touch awakening every nerve, sending shivers of anticipation down her spine. She can’t hide from me.
I see her.
I set the sponge aside and reach for her hand, guiding her fingers to my lips. I press a soft kiss on each knuckle. Her eyes darken with confusion, not in regard to my actions, but something deeper, something she has yet to accept.
Emery’s chest rises and falls with each breath, and I dip her hand into the warm water, guiding it between her parted thighs.
I see her. And I know what she wants.
“Play with yourself, darling,” I rasp, my cock stirring in my trousers as she lets out a tiny gasp. “Go on now, little Emery.” I arch down, whispering in her ear. “Show me how good you can make yourself feel.”
THE UNHOLY WATER
EMERY
He’s a distraction.That’s all this is. A soothing, almost ethereal distraction. His voice. His touch. His commands. They fucking numb me. I’ve never experienced this type of peaceful hell before.
And it is hell. I deserve this. I deserve to burn in the hottest of deserts. I should stop. I should keep my distance. I should heed Sophie’s warning. Her foreshadowing. I should draw a line. But goddamn it, the line is too tempting. It calls to me. I want to toe it. I want to walk it. I want to run across it so many times that it disappears.
I’m a bad person.
Good people don’t play these filthy little games.
But being bad feels so fucking good. Why must it feelsogood?
Quinton’s eyes glow like indestructible sapphires, precious gems that I can’t escape. His gaze is locked on me, tethered to my every movement, my every breath.
The water ripples as I drag my hand between my parted thighs, and it’s as if I’m drowning in a pool of decadent sin, unholy water that condemns my actions, my thoughts, my inability to resist.
“Good girl,” Quinton rasps, dragging a thumb across his bottom lip. “Nice and slow, darling.” He tilts his head, gaze commanding yet so fucking tender. “I want you to feel it all.”
He swallows, a tiny growl reverberating in his chest as my eyelids flutter shut and my clit pulses beneath my fingertips. I hear him shift positions, a light gust of air flowing against the side of my face, and then his voice is louder, his lips feathering against my ear as he sits behind me.
I gasp as he captures my nipples between his taunting fingers.
“Play, little darling.” Pain shoots through my breasts as he squeezes tighter, his voice deeper as he commands, “I saidplay.”
Like a willing soldier, I obey his orders, my knees parting, resting on the white, cold curves of the tub as I flick and rub and torment myself.
“Just like that, darling,” Quinton rasps, edging me on. “A little harder now.”
I moan as he twists on my nipples, the pleasurable pain damn near euphoric.
“I saidharder, darling.”
I quicken my speed, tiny tidal waves bashing against the tub as I do as I’m told, as my core clenches, as I listen intently to his guidance, to his cult-like preaching.
“Yes, keep going, darling. Keepfuckinggoing.”
My stomach clenches, pussy vibrating at his dirty words of encouragement.
“Good girl, little Emery. Keep going. Keep fucking yourself. Yes, just like that. Just like that.” His voice dips into a carnivorous growl. “Come for me, little Emery. Fuckingcome.”
And just like that, my entire body convulses like he’s performed a goddamn exorcism on my possessed and evil body. My legs quiver, knees shaking, the voltage reaching my toes as wanton moans slip past my lips.
Holy hell. Oh, my God.
