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“So fucking delicious.”
Pride and pleasure surged through me.
I moaned.
Then his fingers left my folds, only to come back a second later…with something bigger, harder.
My stomach tightened, and uncertainty flashed through me.
“Trust me,” he whispered.
And I did.
With every fiber of my being, I trusted him.
He inserted—what could only be the handle of the flogger—inside me, filling me with a delicious pressure.
My breath hitched as he began to expertly fuck me with it, the smooth wood sliding in and out of me in perfect juxtaposition to the rhythmic lapping and sucking of his tongue on my clit.
“Yes.”
The combination of sensations was overwhelming, and I found myself lost in a whirlwind of pleasure, each stroke pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
I moaned, feeling the familiar tightening in my core.
“Come for me,” he urged, his voice strained. “Now.”
He quickened the movements of both his tongue and lips and the flogger handle, driving me closer and closer to the edge.
I surrendered to it completely, trusted Gabe to guide me through the pleasure that threatened to consume me until, finally, I shattered.
Wave after wave crashed over me, and as my climax washed over me, I cried out his name, clinging to the chains beside me.
And in that moment, as my body trembled with ecstasy, I suddenly felt a newfound sense of power over my own fears and insecurities.
I suddenly understood the true meaning of trust.
It wasn’t just about relinquishing control; it was about allowing someone to see the most vulnerable parts of yourself, about showing them the most vulnerable parts of yourself and knowing, without a speck of doubt, they would cherish them.
And as Gabe continued to caress me, I opened my eyes.
Our gazes locked—his dark eyes, those stormy depths so full of love.
Full of burning desire.
Full of promises about our future and our shared journey into this uncharted territory.
Gabe never wavered and continued to hold my gaze with unwavering love and trust.
And in that moment, I knew—the trust and intimacy we had forged in this dimly lit room was his present to me.
His way to give me back my freedom.
Until Gabe straightened and, with a wicked grin said, “And now onto the good part.”
CHAPTERFIFTY-TWO
“The good part?” The way Sophie looked at me, satiated and drowsy, like a cat taking a sunbath, but also hesitant of what to expect next, had me in a delightful mood.
