Page 33 of Inextricably Tied

Agony’s gaze slips smoothly back to the painting in front of him. “Yes sir.”

It’s intentional, Flint directing her where to put the toy, keeping her on the brink of Agony’s vision. A reminder of who she belongs with. Belongs to. It trills through her.

Deliciously torturous, and not just for Agony. His eyes flicker, on the verge of catching Harbinger behind him. The thought of him seeing her bare sends sparks along her skin. She pulls her arms from her sleeves, trailing fingers down the dip in her waist. Tight fabric clings to her ass before she works the suit over her hips and drags it down her thighs.

Flint curses a breath. Agony wavers, tempted to twist his head and get a look, but he doesn’t. Only lets the sides of his eyes tilt toward her, enough to see her curves in blurry focus.

She takes her place against the headboard. Both she and Flint face the room, her eyes narrowed on him beside her. He smirks. “Don’t knock the headboard against the wall, will you?”

She fights a smile, pressing her ass against the headboard as she reaches between her legs for the toy. “I can’t stand you.”

Talons skirt along her hips as she tries to steady herself, but in this position, there’s no way. Flint reminds her of it, hiking her closest thigh onto his shoulder, her calf draped down his chest as she tries to work the toy inside her.

It nudges between her folds. Her chin drops to her chest, weight settling onto Flint. He taps her leg until she meets his eyes.

“Watch me while you take it.”

Teeth drag into her lip when the toy sinks inside. Her head falls back, but she focuses on Flint as she takes each inch, lifting and sinking lower again. Arousal stirs in Flint at the way her eyes widen, noises strangled in her throat, eyelashes fluttering.

She only has the toy halfway inside before Flint squeezes her thigh on his shoulder. “Stop there.”

Her hands scramble for something to hold onto. “Gods, you’re killing me.”

Flint drags his lips against her hip, down into the crease that meets her thigh, sinfully slow and teasing. Once her standing leg is quivering, he pulls back. “Now fuck it ‘til you come.”

Past her whimper, she takes aborted strokes along the toy to stretch herself over the middle. Every circle of her hips sounds filthy, muffled by the sounds of her heavy breathing, headboard nudging the wall. Flint’s mouth is hot and open against the outside of her thigh. His lips leave a trail of synapses firing, heightening her arousal with his as she groans in frustration. “It’s not deep enough.”

“Too bad: make it deep enough.”

Her catsuit strains against her knees, keeping them close together. It’s agonizing to be unable to sink to the hilt, to not have Flint, fucking herself on this poor substitute while he mocks her.

And still, it’s enough to wind her closer to release, lube dripping down her thigh. Flint catches it on a fingertip and smears it back across her clit. Her body jerks, but then his hand is gone, brows lifting as if she should know better.

“I told you…” His teeth dig into the flesh of her thigh. “To make my pussy come.”

Every word is level, measured, unbothered, and Harbinger wants to scream. He got her addicted to it — to him — the first night he touched her. He knows exactly what he’s doing now. Her frantic fingers find her clit as she tries to sink deeper, but Flint’s grip on her ankle against his chest keeps her off balance.

“Half of it,” he reminds her, dragging tusks against her hip before he bites into the swell of her ass.

Her eyes clench shut, fingers fumbling to find that pattern against her clit. “Oh my fucking gods…”

Flint’s smirk curls against her skin. “It’s just me.”

Nothing compares to the slow drag of his mouth, sending sparks wherever he touches her. She comes like that, heel digging into Flint’s chest, both her legs shaking, one hand gripping for his hair. He keeps her upright, looping kisses against her thigh, ribbed tongue dragging against the skeletal patterns of her skin. When her eyes open, it’s to him looking up at her. Reverent. Devoted. Enough to make her knees weaker than the orgasm.

Agony pants in his chair, like he’s the one that came apart. Flint doesn’t let Harbinger rest, easing her off of the toy and back onto her feet before he turns her to face the wall. She presses her breasts against it, trying to keep her thoughts straight, lascivious memories from its surface trailing through her. “What are you…?”

Flint lifts his shoulder in invitation. “Climb up.”

She laughs, but his face is blank. It wraps a rope around her desire and tugs it toward him.

“Get on,” he demands. Flint jerks his chin toward the suit clinging for dear life to her legs. “And take that off.”

It’s torture. There’s no other explanation. So she returns the favor, leaning down toward his mouth as she strips off the rest of her suit. His self-control is infuriating. Admirable. All he does is lower his lashes as she bites her lip.

When she straightens to face the wall, he gives her no warning. Nothing more than a hand on her ass as he lifts her in one palm.

Her fingers scrabble against the wall, trying to find purchase as he guides her bent knees to either of his shoulders. It’s dicey, threatening her balance when she moves, but Flint bears her weight with his hands locked around her hips.