Page 72 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

Her breath caught. “Maybe that’s what I want.”

“Yeah?”

Her skin flushed and she nodded, like she was almost…afraid to admit it.

“I’ll make you feel so good, sweetheart. But only if you behave.” He leaned in, letting his lips brush against the shell of her ear. “You going to be my good girl, Rebecca?”

“Yes.” The single word was almost a moan.

“I thought so.” He pulled away, putting distance between them. “Get on the bed. I want you to spread those pretty thighs and stuff your cunt with your fingers. Show me exactly how you touch yourself when you’re thinking about me.”

Her lips parted with shock. Eyes going wide.

“Do it,” he commanded.

He needed her to do this. Needed a few moments to acclimate to their situation. Otherwise, his restraint would snap. She’d be bound to him forever if he let that happen.

And he wouldn’t.

“All right.” Her chin lifted. She climbed onto the bed, laying her head on the pillow. He moved to the foot of the bed where he could see the length of her body.

“That’s it,” he encouraged as she hesitantly spread her thighs, bringing her hand down to her sex. The first glimpse of her cunt, pink and wet and soft, made him groan. He felt Rebecca’s eyes on his face—on his expression. So he let her see it. Didn’t bother to school his features so she might see what she was to him. His undoing.

“Touch yourself,” he begged.

She did, her fingers sliding down over her clit, then parting her folds, spreading her wetness around. She moved up and down, then circled her clit and moaned. The sound was exactly what he knew it would be. He’d imagined it a thousand times. After that first meal he cooked for her, he’d replayed that moan over and over. It lived in every fantasy in his mind.

Her breath caught when she slipped her middle finger inside. The sight of her flesh swallowing it. Seeing it disappear.

Fuck!

He palmed his cock through his pants, unable to help himself.

She was a bonny sight. Better than anything he could have imagined. Dreamt up.

This would be forever seared into his mind.

She moaned again as her finger retreated, coming away slick. Then she went back in, using two this time. Her hips rose to meet the motion.

“Is this how you do it?” he rasped, his throat dry. “When you make yourself come thinking about me? Like this? How you’re doing it now?”

“N-no.”

“How, then?”

“Like… Like this.” She brought her other hand down, using it to circle her clit while she continued to work her fingers in and out. Her hips grew sloppy, bucking to meet the movements of her hands.

“I do this—and pretend it’s you. But it’s never as good, because I know your hands are bigger. So much bigger. Thicker. Fuck,” she cried, eyes falling closed.

A frustrated growl exploded from his chest.

He was on the bed in a heartbeat, snatching her wrists, halting her movements. “Enough.”

He couldn’t bear another minute without his hands on her. “I’ve seen enough. I’ll take it from here.”

“Thank God,” she breathed. She tugged but he didn’t release her. Instead, lifting her right hand to suck her fingers clean. Her eyes widened, and her lips formed a surprised “Oh.”

“I want the taste of you on my tongue for the rest of my life,” he said, cleaning her skin thoroughly.