Page 132 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

His hand moves lower, over my leathers, cupping me through the fabric. His palm presses against my clit, and I nearly gasp with relief. But it’s not nearly enough, just a taste of what he’s withholding. I try to grind against his palm, desperate for friction, for anything. But he pulls back just enough to deny me.

“So eager.” He tsks against my ear, and the brush of his lips sends a shiver through me. “I can feel how much you want me, and I haven’t even touched that pretty little cunt yet.”

A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. His filthy words are breaking me faster than his hands. I’m in so much trouble.

His fingers dip beneath my waistband again and lowers, brushing bare skin that’s screaming for more, then retreat back over the leather, pressing, rubbing, and building something that goes nowhere. I bite back a sob.

He keeps going, over the leather, under the waistband, each pass lower than the last, close enough that I’m sure this is it. But every time, he pulls away without giving me what I need, and I’m falling apart.

He tips my chin up and brings his mouth so close to mine I can taste him on my next breath. Cedar, moss, and want wash over me. I lean in to close the distance, but he pulls back, just enough to deny me. I can’t take it anymore. The ache has turned to pain.

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is like gravel, like holding back is costing him everything. But there’s steel beneath it. The voice of a man who knows he has me completely at his mercy.

My resistance shatters. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he says, infuriatingly calm. His palm presses against me through the leather, making my hips roll into him. “Be specific.”

I bite my lip, refusing to give in. But the need is clawing at me now. Every slow circle of his palm is a reminder of what he’s withholding and what I have to beg for if I want it.

He laughs low and dark. “So stubborn.” His thumb traces along the seam of my leathers harder, right over where I’m aching. “You need me, little fox. I can feel how much you want me.”

The need is consuming me whole, burning through every defense I have. I can’t do this anymore; I can’t hold out.

“Rye, please—” The words scrape out of my throat.

“That’s better.” Dark satisfaction drips from every word. “Please, what?”

His fingers move to the top of my pants and loosen the ties of my leathers. His hand dips down until he stops right above my clit. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

My hips chase his hand, doing the begging I refuse to do out loud. He doesn’t let me have it. He just holds his hand there, hovering, while I come undone beneath him.

I squeeze my eyes shut. My thoughts have collapsed into nothing but want.

“I want—” The words die in my throat. The need has swallowed everything. There’s only him and the unbearable space between his finger and my clit.

“You want what?” His finger finds my clit, barely there, one slow, cruel circle that has me choking on air. “Want my fingers buried inside you? Want me to feel how tight and wet you are?”

“Fuck—” The rest dissolves into a moan I couldn’t stop if I tried.

“That’s not begging, little fox.” He pulls his hand away from my clit.

My eyes fly open. The emptiness where his finger was is unbearable.

“Rye—” I’m past my breaking point. I’m unraveling, and he can see it, the desperation written all over my face.

“You know what I want to hear.” His eyes are hungry and devouring me. “Beg me to touch your soaking wet cunt. Beg me to slide my fingers inside you. And if you ask nicely enough…” He leans in, lips brushing my jaw. “I’ll let you come.”

His filthy fucking words break me.

“Touch me.” The begging spills out of me like a dam breaking. “Please. I need your fingers inside me—need you to feel how wet you’ve made me. Make me come, Rye, please⁠—”

A low groan rumbles from his chest. “That’s better.”

His fingers find my clit and begin to circle. The moan it pulls from me is loud and shameless, echoing off the stone, and his hand leaves my clit and clamps over my mouth before the sound fades.

“You’re going to need to stay quiet if you want me to keep going.”

The warning sends a thrill straight through me. He’s in complete control, and he knows it. And fuck, I want to obey every filthy command that falls from his lips. I want to earn what he’s withholding. He sees it.