Silas looked at me.Reallylooked at me. Intensity burned in his eyes.
Pride.
Heat crept up my neck, and I felt myself blush under the weight of his stare.
Still crouching, he reached forward and gripped my chair, dragging it toward him. The metal legs screeched loudly against the floor.
“You’re a good student,” he murmured. “And good students get rewards, little mute.”
His tongue darted across his lower lip as his hands moved to the waistband of my pants, gripping them and my underwear at once. He pulled both down in one smooth motion.
I lifted my hips instinctively, but when I settled back, my skin met the cold metal chair, sending a shiver through me.
Silas stayed crouched in front of me, like a tiger ready to pounce, his gaze fixed hungrily on my exposed core.
He looked up for just a moment, a silent question in his eyes. I nodded.
"Open your legs, Lena. Let me give you your reward like a good teacher."
My thighs parted as he leaned forward, his hot tongue swiping through my center, sending lightning through me.
“Fuck, Lena… you taste like candied peaches. So fucking sweet.”
I moaned as his mouth found me again, the sensation pulling tight through my body as he pressed closer, then sucked hard on the most sensitive part of me. His tongue moved inside me, dipping in and out of my heat, drawing helpless groans from my throat.
Suddenly, he lifted me, looping his hands beneath my assand hauling me against his chest. My hands remained restrained behind my back.
With one sweep of his arm across the workbench, tools clattered to the floor in a sharp chorus of metal. He set me down on the surface, his hands immediately finding my knees and prying them apart as far as they would go. Then he pressed against me, the heat of him a stark contrast to the cold metal beneath me.
“Lesson two,” he instructed, his voice raw. “Psychological pressure.”
I stilled, trying to focus on his words, recognizing the way he used proximity as a tool to distract me.
“Before you ever lay a hand on a subject,” he continued, “there are ways to loosen them. Ways to make them talk without ever touching them.”
He shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of space between us. The absence of contact made me pout.
“To get into their head,” he added. “To shake their control. Spike their fear. Overwhelm them before you need to apply pain.”
He crouched between my legs again, pursed his lips and blew softly right against my hot, wet, needy center. I groaned, feeling my walls tighten and slick pour from me.
He blew again, chuckling when more slick dripped from me.
“You can taunt them,” he said, fixated on my most intimate place. “Dangle what they want right in front of them.”
Then he straightened, standing between my thighs.
“And take it away.”
His fingers caught the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one smooth motion. My bra went next, unclipped and discarded just as quickly.
Suddenly I sat bare on the workbench, shivering under fluorescent lights.
The room smelled like metal and antiseptic, but Silas’s alpha scent cut through it, heavier now that it was threaded with his arousal.
I was so needy.
So empty.
