Page 34 of She Who Was Severed

“Kellen,” I whisper. It comes out cracked.

He looks up, mouth already brushing my thigh. “Tell me to stop.”

I bury my fingers in his hair and pull.

Not hard. Not soft either.

“I’ll kill you if you stop.”

His grin is wrecked. Wrecking. “Understood.”

Then he buries his mouth between my thighs.

I jerk. Fist tightening in his hair. He groans against me and the vibration damn near undoes me. He’s slow at first—tongue flicking, teasing—but that doesn’t last. I roll my hips. He answers. Hungry. Rhythmic. Like he’s trying to draw my name out of me syllable by syllable.

The chain lights faintly against my ribs. Silver. Warm. Watching.

I come fast. Too fast. It hits like something sacred. My back arches. My hand tightens in his hair. He doesn’t stop until I physically pull him up.

I’m panting. Shaking. Staring at him like I’ve never seen him before.

“Now,” I whisper.

His eyes darken. “Now?”

“Inside me. Now.”

Clothes fall the rest of the way. His fingers trail up my thigh, over my hip, across the curve of my breast. He doesn’t ask again. Just presses forward, thick and slow. When he enters me, it’s slow. Reverent. Not because he’s afraid I’ll break.

Because we both already have.

He moves like he means every inch. My body takes him greedy, aching. I clutch at his back, bury my teeth in his shoulder. He gasps my name. Again. Again.

But it’s not the chain I’m thinking of.

It’s him.

All of him.

And what I’ll do if he ever stops.

The chain lights. Not bright. Not loud. Just a whisper of heat. A tether.

Kellen groans. His hand slides under my knee, lifts my leg higher. The angle shifts. I choke on a moan. My spine bows. He presses deeper, harder. We lose the rhythm. Then find a better one.

His forehead rests to mine. His hands are shaking. Mine are not.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper. “Not yet.”

He doesn’t.

When I come again, it’s not soft. It’s raw. Too much. Perfect.

I shatter around him, gasping, sobbing into his skin. The chain floods with heat—flaring from my collarbone down to my wrist.

He follows.

Not with a cry. With a growl.