I swallow. My throat is dry.
My mouth feels like it wants something in it. His cock, his fingers, his orders, I don’t know. Either way, I obey.
I lift my hips, offering myself to him without hesitation.
He drags my pants down in one smooth, efficient motion, folding them neatly at the foot of the bed.
Then he comes back to me, looming over my hips, needle in hand, and he lets the blunt end trail down the side of my thigh, barely grazing skin. A bolt of sensation streaks to my core. My nipples pebble even tighter.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
He gives me a wicked, almost tender smile.
“I thought you trusted me,” he murmurs.
“I do.”
He tilts his head, hair falling into his eyes.
“Then why,” he asks softly, “all the questions, my love?”
His forearm settles across my hipbone, pinning me down with effortless strength. His thumb strokes small circles into the hollow of my hip. Each circle pulls another pang of want through me.
“Nathaniel…” My breath stutters. “What is that for?”
“Your nerves,” he says at last. His fingers slide slowly along my thigh as he talks. “You’re too wound up. You’ve been shaking since Rhea appeared. I felt it the entire time.”
His thumb skims closer to the heat between my thighs with each word.
“You want to sedate me?” I gasp.
“Oh, Skye…”
He laughs and leans down to kiss the inside of my knee. “If I wanted you sedated, you wouldn’t be conscious enough to question me.”
He’s probably right.
No, he definitely is.
“Then…?”
“There are many ways to stimulate your body,” he says.
Stimulate.
His fingers part my inner thighs with slow, unhurried authority. I swear my cunt clenches just from the way he spreads me. There’s something in the way his eyes hood over…
“Did you know the clitoris contains more than eight thousand nerve endings?”
His knuckles brush the outer edge of my panties, and my breath hitches violently.
“Twice as many as the male organ,” he continues, dragging his fingertips higher and cupping the underside of my pussy. “Your orgasms are something I could never… ever replicate in myself.”
And that’s when the needle glints.
I shiver. Hard.
Because in my head, the fantasy turns feral. I see him holding me open, murmuring analytical observations while I writhe. Cataloguing every reaction to every stimulus, never getting enough of this filthy torture. Maybe in another world, one without wraiths, unwelcome exes, or injustices to solve, he’dspend every free waking moment like this, testing how far we can go before I explode from sensation.
