Page 76 of Resurgent

“Beg me, Annalise. Beg me to give you permission to slip just one finger into the needy puddle between your thighs.”

“Oh fuck. Please! You wanted me to show you what I like, I promise I will.”

“That’s right, be a good girl and show me how you rub your clit while you finger yourself—but only one finger can go inside you.”

“But—”

“One. Finger. Annalise.”

Rather than arguing, I torturously slowly dip the tip of my finger inside myself before pulling it out to wet my clit.

“Gods, yes. Just like that. I bet you feel so good to touch.”

Each comment pulls me closer to the edge, my quiet whimpers and moaned breaths echoing all around us.

“You’re so beautiful, I can’t keep my eyes off you,” he praises. “Go ahead—let me see how you’d want me touching you. How you’d stretch around my fingers.”

Before he can say another word, my fingers are pushing into my drenched pussy as my other hand squeezes my breasts.

“I’d want you just like this. I'd want your cock deep inside me while you bite my nipples."

His wanting breaths join mine as he continues to praise me with each quickening plunge of my fingers.

“Faster. I'd be going faster, making you moan while you make a gorgeous mess all over me.”

“Gods. Fuck! Yes!” I scream, an orgasm unlike any other tearing through me.

I attempt to reach for a pillow to muffle the sound.

“Unless you’re calling red, don’t you fucking dare deprive me of your sounds,” he groans, and if I’d thought of it earlier, I would have imagined he was touching himself just as much as I’ve been.

A cupboard shutting in the kitchen has my eyes snapping open.

The chair I’d dreamt occupied only moments ago sits firmly in the corner it’s always in, and the man I’d dreamt had stolen my control, and all the air in the room has disappeared.

I don’t know how long I lay staring at the ceiling; but eventually my heavy breaths and worn-out sighs give way to bone-deep exhaustion, and for the first time since I was attacked, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

Chapter twenty-three

Annalise

“I’m just saying,” Emily pushes dramatically, walking backward in front of Ian and me as we walk down the stairs from Environmental Studies toward Strategy and stressing me out with every step. “If the entire point of the exercise was to teach us how to identify an ambush site, perhaps they could have left out the part where we were actually ambushed!”

Ian snorts. “That would have made the lesson far less memorable.”

“It made it traumatic."

“You were hit with paint.”

“High-caliber paintballs! In our real clothes!”

I laugh, and Emily points at me accusingly.

“Oh, shut up! Just because you managed to find the high ground and shoot them instead…”

“You mean like we were supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to be my friend.”