Better.
Better better better better?—
My back arches hard enough that my grip slides off the desk, a broken sound tearing free of my throat when the sensation crests again. It’s not pain, it’s not a stroke, it’s not whatever the fuck I thought…it’spleasure.It floods me completely, heat rushing through me, making me clench my thighs and?—
“Oh,” I choke out, and my breath hitches again. “Oh god—oh god?—”
Another wave hits, and this one fucking breaks.
The sound that comes out of me is downright obscene, andall recordedfor later review, which is great. My hips jerk forward without permission, and then I’m on the floor, writhing, heat spiraling tight and ruthless as the translator feeds it back, amplifying the misread signal until my vision whites out.
Oh my god.
Oh my god I’m?—
I’m coming.
I’mcoming.
“What the fuck,” I sob. “What the…ohfuck?—”
Again.Again, I’m having a borderline painful orgasm, because the system said no, you’re not experiencing pain, you’re experiencingecstasy.I need to get the damn thing off my head, but it’s like all of a sudden my arms and legs don’t work at all.I convulse on the floor, letting out this disgusting groan, fingers curling?—
“Lyn,” a male voice is saying. “Lyn, talk to me?—”
Mortified, I look up to find a set of golden eyes, wide and terrified. Rhyss. He’shere, in the lab, touching me while I?—
His hands. Oh god, his hands feel sogood.
It doesn’t matter that they’re on my shoulders, that they’re not even touching skin, that he’s crouched beside me convinced I’m dying. No…my brain’s not processing intention. It’s only processing sensation—and I can see him and see that he’s fucking sexy as hell, that he always has been, I can smell this deep, masculine scent that makes me want to?—
There it is again.
Another orgasm about to destroy me.
“Lyn, are you having a seizure?” he says. “Gods…gods, why did you do this…”
“Kae…Kaelion, please…”
I wish I was seizing. Seizing would be better, clinical, explainable,forgivable. Seizing would not make me see my supervisor in an entirely new light, in this way where I’m convinced I want to yank his fucking pants off and ride him like a cowgirl.
And I try to respond, to tell him to pull the device off, but instead I make a sound that can only be described as pornographic.
That’s when he figures it out.
One hand braces me while the other glides over my cheek, and I want him to kiss me, I want him to…I want him to dounspeakablethings to me. I even try to catch his thumb in my mouth, which is absolutely the wrong move, and he glares at me as he goes for the translator.
He pulls it off.
The sensation stops right away.
My pussy clenches one more time like an unhappy reminder of what a fucking idiot I am, and it’s only then that I realize I’m a complete mess. My cheeks? Flushed. My hair? Wild as hell. My pussy? Wet.
My nipples are so hard you can see them through my bra.
My god.
Rhyss stays crouched beside me, breathing hard, holding the translator like a grenade. His face is flushed, but it isn’t lust…it’sfury, held at bay only by sheer disbelief.
