He growls. "Painful?"
"No.” My voice breaks. “Worse..."
Pleasure. Then shame.
I think it—I can’t form those words.
"Oh,Blesk.” His hand is on my face, his thumb at my chin. “Look at me.”
I blink my eyes open.
A stunning green gaze stares back at me, blacker than normal but still him, still safe. “I don’t want you to be ashamed of what you felt."
My lip wobbles. "But I am."
His eyes move over my shoulder, to the kitchen, to the bottle of bourbon I know is on the counter. Then back to me. He stays. He stays here on the bed. “No one is touching you again. Just like in the basement, it's me and you. Only us. What do you want, Duchess? Ask me."
My pussy clenches. “I can't say it."
I can only show you.
Sickness floods my stomach at the same time as I push him back down to the mattress, before rolling onto my side with my back pressed to his warm front.
I tremble, taking his hand, guiding it down to between my thighs. I press his fingers to the wet cotton. I can’t breathe. "Swear that you'll stay with me after this?" I whisper.
He clears his throat. "Through it all, Blesk." His voice is so much deeper now, so obviously strained.
I stare at his bedside table, only to come face to face with his graduation photo, featuring his cool smile and perfect family. I close my eyes.
His heart is racing. His breathing roughens as I guide his fingers under my knickers. "Tell me to listen to my body."
He freezes, then growls again. "If we do this... this... are you going to stay present? No static.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. "No static.”
Tears track down my cheeks, but my body wants his fingers, deeper. I push them into me, and he hisses. I’m so wet that when he scoops two fingers inside me, then pulls out, he easily slides around my lips before entering me again and again and again.
I keep my hand softly on his. Feel him inside me. No static. It’s… It’s… I paw at his arm. Curl my torso around it. Clutching, holding, sobbing, and moaning. I. Feel. Everything.
Whimpers fall from my lips, then, “Do you remember how you were wet when I stroked you…" My mind buzzes with memories, my heart aching, my body vibrating. “It’s okay. I know. It’s a lot. But you’ll wake up Dad.”
I fuck his fingers, digging my nails into his arm. His erection knocks at my back, making my head swim. His body is so stiff, so hard and angry, but a body does what it does.
Like mine.
‘Listen to your body.’
‘You bled so fucking much.’
I cry out as his skilled fingers find that place inside me that doesn’t ask permission, that doesn’t discriminate.
"One,” I say. “Two.”
Then I break apart, my body rocking and moving against his fingers, my mouth open and gasping against his bicep, tears falling hard, unwilling to let go as I come. “Three.” The pleasure is almost blinding. “Don’t. Flinch,” I choke out as sensation vibrates through me.
I bury my head in Konnor’s arm, humming with pleasure, and sob, expelling the horrible truth in the arms of the man who doesn’t hide the unpleasant things about himself. He bleeds them out, and right now, I do, too.
He collects me close to his chest and holds me in a way that doesn’t yield, that isn’t soft, that is a cage made of rage and fury contained for only this moment. Only for me. There is no hiding what I am now. What I became.
