He walks across the room without hurry to the minibar cabinet set into the wall. His broad shoulders block the view for a moment, but I hear the sound of a box and packaging unwrapping
When he turns back to me, his expression is unreadable, but his hands are sure.
In his gloved hand, he holds a toy—new and gleaming from just being taken out of its plastic casing. He tosses the wrapper to the floor and walks toward me.
My throat dries, but I raise my chin anyway. I’m still panting from the exertion of what just happened, still trying to pretend I’m not depleted.
“Talon,” I warn, but it comes out softer than I want.
“Open your legs,” he says.
I don’t.
He doesn’t repeat himself. Instead, he grabs the leash still attached to my collar and yanks it with a snap, forcing me to the edge of the bed in one brutal pull. My breath knocks from my chest as he shoves my knees up, spreading me wide. I brace myself on my elbows, heart hammering with something that feels like fear and anticipation wrapped together.
I was in control a few moments ago, but I’ve seemed to have lost all of my ground. And I’m not sure I want to get it back either.
Instead, he looks down at me—those dark, merciless eyes glowing from beneath the veil of his hair—and I can feel heat surge through my core before he’s even touched me.
Still, I try to mask it. “What are you going to do?” The words are haughty, a challenge.
He can’t make me feed.
The corners of his mouth lift—barely. He sets the toy down on the bed next to me.
Then with one gloved hand, he slaps my pussy.
A sound, stinging jolt that steals the breath from my lungs and sends a sharp, slick heat rushing through me.
I gasp, but it turns into a moan halfway out.
He doesn’t stop.
“You want to act like a brat?” Another slap, firmer this time, punctuated by the grip of his other hand anchoring my hip. “Then I’ll treat you like one.”
The ache between my legs becomes unbearable.
And I realize Talon's not going to sit on the sidelines anymore.
His gloved hand lingers between my thighs, the sting from the slap blooming into heat that races through my pelvis. I try to hold onto the performance, the edge, the anger that’s been shielding me all night, but it starts to slip the moment his fingers slide through my slickness.
He’s methodical. Unhurried. A Dragon dissecting his prey.
His eyes hold mine. Unrelenting. Brutal. There’s no mercy in them now, just purpose.
My hunger claws up through me, thrashing and demanding. Like it knowsthis is Talon now.Talon’s gloved finger fucking me open, Talon’s scent in my nose, Talon’s fury and love andpossession pouring over my skin. I want to scream. I want to stay cool.
“Feeling hungry yet?” he murmurs, voice low enough to vibrate in my bones.
I grit my teeth. “Fuck you.”
His lips curve with malice as he reaches for the toy beside me. It’s long, sleek black glass, curved subtly upward with a flared base.
He coats it in lube from a packet he tears open with his teeth, never looking away from me. His gloves glisten now, frictionless and gleaming.
Then he presses it against my entrance.
It’s not him. It’s not skin. But it’s his hand. His control.
