And this is the part where a normal person would lie better.
“Did I? Can’t I?” I fucking semi-moan, because his body is pressed against mine, arms caging me in, bending me back against the wood like he’s deciding whether to eat me or scold me first.
He looks down at me like he’s still calculating what to do with this situation.
“Can you go away?” I try.
“Can you move?” he counters.
“No.”
“You know what happens when you don’t,” he says. He doesn’t even sound threatening.
He just sounds certain.
“Not afraid of you,” I lie, because self-preservation is apparently not my strong suit. “You can do your worst.”
He actually chuckles. Low, amused, like I’ve just said something mildly entertaining instead of deeply stupid.
Then he leans in close enough to my ears that I forget how to fucking breathe properly.
“You think you can handle it?”
I combust. Full internal meltdown. Brain.exe has stopped working. Dick.exe has taken over.
He reaches over me, hand on the knob at waist level, and shifts me aside without breaking eye contact.
I numbly let him. My heart is doing funny acrobatics. My skin is too hot. Everything is crashing down at once.
The door swings open.
George doesn’t react immediately. He just stares into the cabinet for a long moment, the way his jaw tenses tells me everything I need to know.
“How long?” he asks.
My mouth opens. Nothing useful forms at first.
“Since after Azure Tides.”
That earns me a glance, sharper now.
He reaches in and pulls out the blue silicone dildo, my first one ever. Holds it up between us and looks at me like he’s daring me to explain myself.
“You’ve been very…busy,” he remarks, tapping the cool silicone against my nipple.
I tremble. He’s going to torture me. I can feel it. I suddenly feel like I should start praying, or running.
“What’s this, Lance Bradford?”
He holds the dildo up in front of my face and taps it lightly against my lips.
“Where do you put this?”
“In…in my…”
“Hmm?” he prompts, voice low and patient.
“In my ass.”
