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She hesitantly did.
The authority in his voice was unyielding. Silky and menacing. He’d never taken thistonewith her and it was going to be her undoing.
Sheloved it.
Andshe was mildly afraid of him. But it wasn’t the kind of fear that informed self-preservation. It intrigued her too much.
“Are you going to answer me?” he asked.
She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. “No.”
“Then I’ll see if I can guess.”
Dread swamped her blood and she knew she ought to put an end to this right now.
But she couldn’t move her arms or legs.
She kept them there because he wanted them there.
He took his sweet time reducing her into a pile of nerves, methodically breaking her down with lash after lash after lash. They blazed across ass and thighs, but occasionally, they kissed the sensitive area between.
The pain bled into pleasure.
His voice drove the tempo and she was rendered into liquid. Like being forty minutes into avery good massage. A particularly long stroke seized her in the grip of bliss.
She moaned.
He was a quick study. He adjusted to the change in her and muted the lashes to the barest trace of current. Her breathing deepened, and her muscles flexed and relaxed. A toe-curling orgasm built but remained just out of reach. Caligher was silent so as to not disturb the peaceful headspace she’d entered. He let her have a few minutes of it. Controlled, steady, calm.
Lucca had found sanctuary.
For the first time in… years, she felt secure enough to let go of everything. Let the sensations and his presence carry her away.
The breath he released mirrored the rapture in her. She felt like they were together. Truly together. As if being human or Ternetzi weren’t factors.
“Tell me why, Lucca. What is it you’re afraid of? Tell me what you can.”
She couldn’t, could she?
She had to soon. Lucca couldn’t keep this up much longer.
“Lucca…”
Electricity teased her clit, like he was running the word over her skin with his tongue. The liquid edge of bliss seeped through the cracks in her reality. He pulled back, letting that delicate orgasm die down and drift away. It was his personal cruel form of tormenting the truth out of her.
Frustrated, she scraped her face against pillows to shove sweaty locks of hair from her face. Her arms remained in their invisible positions. If she moved them, he would scold her in that merciless voice.
“Tell me some part of the truth,” he said, soft yet firm. “Do you want me?”
“Yes… I want you so badly I can’t handle it anymore,” she admitted. “But if you come over, this will end.”
“What will end?”
“…Us.”
“You believe that?”
“Yes!”
