He strokes until the cool pads of his fingers find my clit. When he pinches, I turn my head—thenfreezeas the belt bites deeper into my throat.
I rasp in breath after breath, my air flow cut just enough to fill my mouth with a sour taste. My heart beats faster. My lungs begin to burn.
“It’s pathetic that after all this time, no one has figured that out.” He pulls the little device from his pocket, even more ominous than before. “I was the cofounder of a very successful corporation, mostly dealing in real estate. We invested in hotels. Office buildings. That sort of thing. But if I’mreallyhonest…”
He replaces the two fingers pinching my clit with the device. Cold plastic clamps on the most vulnerable point on my body.
I yelp, hands squeezing the foam padding.
Don’t lift your chin.
Don’t scream.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Rasp. Rasp. Rasp.
“I was a better friend than a business partner… My partner, he was ashark.Isa shark.” Sawyer pats his knees and rises, the device holding my clit hostage. I listen intently but barely hear him through the discomfort nailing my teeth together.
“Which,in hindsight, makes him robbing me blind seem inevitable. It’s a little embarrassing not to have seen it coming… but it’s a lesson learned. Kindness and care don’t mean a man won’t hurt you, Luna. The wholest of human beings are both gentle and vicious.”
“Is that what you are,Sawyer?” I ask, adding extra bite to his name the way he adds extra softness to mine. As if my tiny brain needs the extra two syllables to understand what he’s saying, what he’sreallysaying. “You think you’re whole?”
One corner of his mouth curves. A subtle lift so precise, it runs the length of my neck. He turns and strolls to the workbench.
“It’s a goddamn trap really,” he carries on. “Money. You can live your whole life on an empty stomach, but that first drop of thousand dollar brandy will show you what hunger is really like.”
“You sound like an alcoholic,” I wheeze.
“Do I?” He opens a drawer and pulls out a bottle of liquor and a tiny remote that he tucks between his teeth. The lone wooden chair scrapes along the beaten hardwood as he drags it in front of me. He sits, drops the remote into his lap, twists off the cap off the bottle.
“Mypoint, sweet Luna…” He leans back and crosses one leg over the other, the picture of unbothered sin. “Is that actions don’t always reveal the heart. People don’t do things because they’re wicked. They do them because they’re starving, or desperate, or hurting. Judging a person solely by what they do is shallow.Andoften incorrect. For instance…”
He hits a button on the remote that for half a second—point five seconds ofpure ignorant bliss—I don’t understand.
Then the device attached to my clit comes alive.
My chest expands as the device vibrates, rousing nerves in explosive little jerks, the buzzing flooding my skull.
My jaw drops, one tiny mistake that costs me air. I wheeze past the tightening belt.
“In a few minutes, you’re going to come. But that doesn’t make you horny, does it?”
“Turn it off,” I whisper, hardly moving my lips in fear of the belt. “Please, turn it off.”
Sawyer lifts the remote and presses another button, making the device pause. For a fraction of a second, I think it’s over. But then the device starts back up. A hard piece of silicone runs in circles around my clit as it vibrates and sucks, making the air wheezing through my lungs puff faster.
“Are you a slut because you spread your legs for me?” he muses. “If you begged me to fuck you, would it make you a whore?”
The back of my head caves a dent in the foam. I clench my eyelids shut and try to slip away, but the little mechanicalwhirris constant, ear splitting, and consumes every thought and sense.
“Please,” I barely manage. My thighs rub together in a desperate attempt to work off the device, but every movement feels unbearable. Every clench of my thighs increases the pressure and assaults my body more effectively than the belt around my neck. I mewl as my core winds tight, sweat breaking out on my forehead.
“You weren’t nice to me, Luna. And now, you’re ignoring my questions. Why should I be a friend to you?”
“I’m s-sorry,” I stammer before letting out a little cry. “Please.”
I pry my eyes open to look at him, implore him face to face. But in an instant, I regret it because my hips tremble with pleasure that ripples down my spine. Everything squeezes. Everything feels cut off from the blood that rushes to my core, my body’s every priority concentrated deep and low. I cry out instead of moan—fitting because I can’t describe it as the least bit pleasant.
