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“Is that where it aches, pretty one?” He squeezes my inner thigh. “Use your words.”
I’m delirious. Drunk, even. I nod because words are too much.
One daring finger skims over my panties. I let out a gasp that fades into a moan. “There’s a good girl. Would you like me to teach you how to get what you want?” My insides purr at his approval.
I’m panting. Unsure how to do this without overthinking everything.
“Your words, please.”
“Yes.” My lungs deflate. “But why do you want to?”
He pauses. “I like the control of it. Teaching you how to erupt from our touch excites me.”
He watches me with cunning calculation as if waiting for me to take my words back. But it is written across the desire coating his eyes. He can read me without half a thought. He can recognize every tremble, every sigh, every expression and know how to touch me. It’s the way this alter is designed to understand the arts of pleasure.
“Do exactly as I say,” he coaxes, dragging my hands down to my panties. “We’ll go slow.”
I’m no longer spineless and melting. Now, I’m as rigid as Dessin once was. His hand is resting over mine, which is resting between my legs.
“Move your fingers with mine,” he says. He begins to curl them, stretch them, move them until I’m hooking my opening through the fabric of my panties. It hits a bundle of nerves that ignites my senses. I groan at his guidance. The base of my stomach twisting in a tight knot, burning with pleasure.
“Do you feel that?”
I pause.
“You’re soaking,” he hums, pleased with this outcome. “You have no idea how bad that makes me want to taste you.”
“Oh,” I sigh, my center contracting around our fingers, kneading and working on me.
Greystone leans down into my ear, breathing against me.
“When my breath grazes your ear, your skin, it’ll make it so much easier to chase that fire in your tight, pretty cunt.” His words douse me in a ferocious need to move my fingers faster, arch my back into his dirty mouth. What is happening to me? It’s a fever of sorts. A virus that turns a woman into a dainty monster.
The pressure in my clit swells, throbbing against our fingers, and the tingling sensation builds throughout my entire body.
“Faster, pretty one.”
I breathe in and out like I’m about to faint. Our fingers are digging into me, massaging my hot, wet center.
“You’re so beautiful with that mouth wide open for me.”
I freeze before I burst. An explosion of euphoric magic that coats every cell, every vein, every organ. I’m gasping like a dying fish under Greystone’s grip, howling until I fall limp to the bed, pouring over the sheets like warm, drizzling honey.
Oh my god. What was that?!
I’m a mess of trembling goo. Greystone kisses me on the cheek, smiling as he pulls away.
“Sleep,” he urges. “I have more to teach you soon.”
7. Impostor
I wake to the sound of a chair creaking.
My hand moves to wander aimlessly over the space Greystone was sleeping next to me. But it’s empty yet still warm to the touch.
I open my eyes, blinking several times before the cave ceiling comes into focus. I shift to where the sound came from, a chair in the corner of the room. Dessin is lacing his boots up, glaring at me.
“What?” I ask, but I know. I wish I didn’t. I screwed up big time.
