Page 93 of The Haunting Plot

Her words are a balm to my soul, healing a part of it I thought would never be whole again. No one has ever seen me like Raven does, never viewed my weaknesses as strengths. I’m overcome with emotion, and I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on the way her lips caress my skin, as if they’re mending the wounds others have left behind.

Then she hovers over my stomach, and when I look down, she’s staring at me with such intensity, my breath catches in my throat. “Your strength is in your soft parts. The ones you’re brave enough to bare to those that matter. The parts of you that provide comfort behind your strength. And this one is my favorite.” Her head dips down, and her soft lips graze the skin around my navel. I’m writhing with need as she licks a slow circle, then dips her tongue inside.

She pulls back suddenly. “Wait, do you wash inside this thing?”

A hearty laugh escapes me. “Fuck off. Yes, I wash my belly button.”

Her feline grin is infectious. “Just checking.” Then her mouth is against my flesh, nipping and sucking. I want to cover myself, hide my belly that’s a little too big, too soft, too jiggly, but her mouth feels too damn good. I’ve never let anyone worship this part of me like this, and that’s exactly what Raven is doing. Her mouth is everywhere, licking me like I’m the batter left in the bowl, and she wants to savor every drop.

“Raven, fuck. Fuuuck. I need to be inside of you.”

She sits up between my legs, gripping my thighs as her blue eyes examine my face. “I don’t want to use a condom. I get tested regularly for the sex club I go to in Denver, and my last test was clear.”

“Okay, I have follow-up questions about that.” Her eyebrows furrow. “But I get that this isn’t the time. I’m clear too. Not that you asked, but I had a scare after a one-night stand a couple years back, and I get tested regularly now.”

“I appreciate your honesty.” Her nails tickle the hairs on my inner thighs as they slowly rake upwards. “I also want to be honest.”

I sit up, leaning on my arms for support. The rolls in my belly are more pronounced like this, and her eyes flick down, widening as she takes me in. “You really like that part of me, huh? You weren’t bullshitting me?”

“Why would I lie about that? Your ego’s big enough already. There’s no need for me to continue stroking it.”

“I have something I’d love for you to stroke.”

“Focus, moron.”

My dick flexes at the insult, and her eyes clock the movement. “You weren’t lying. That actually does turn you on.”

“More than you know, though I’m not sure what that says about me.” I reach down, gripping the base of my aching cock as I give it a few hard strokes.

“I like it rough,” she blurts, and I nearly come in my hand.

“Spitfire, you can’t say shit like that unless you want me to come before I’m even inside of you.”

“That doesn’t scare you?”

“Nothing about you scares me.”

She takes a deep breath. “I like it rough, but I also like to be rough. Sorry, I know talking about this is probably killing the mood, but…”

“You need a plan?”

She nods. It’s tentative, as if she’s nervous to continue. “What do you know about BDSM?”

“Like the dominatrix stuff? Wait, are you actually into the red room shit?” I can’t hide the excitement in my voice.

Her brow furrows. I’m fucking this up.

“I don’t know anything about it beyond what I’ve seen on social media, and I’m sure that’s not accurate. I get this matters to you, and if it’s important to you, I want to know all about it. Teach me.”

“I like being in charge. Telling you what to do. But I also like being dominated. I’m not a domme or a sub. I’m a switch because I switch between the two.”

“So, how does this work?” Her eyes go wide, like she wasn’t expecting my answer.

“Personally, I like to focus on one dynamic at a time. And it usually depends on a variety of factors.”

“Such as?”

“My mood. Your mood. My energy. Any fantasies I want to explore. Where I’m at emotionally. If I’ve triggered any of my sensory issues.”