Page 139 of Remnants: Disruption
The praise sends another rush of ecstasy up my spine, and I wriggle to find release against her hand.
In answer, she thrusts another finger into me, and it slips in with embarrassing ease.
“I’m not going to last—” I huff and let out a cry as she moves the hand to knead at my breast.
“You have such an amazing body,” Cass says, and I try to refocus again on her face.
Her orange irises seem to shift as the light hits them. Her dark hair is pinned loosely behind her head showing off her slim neck. Her thin, upturned nose and full lips are as picturesque as they are imperfect in the best ways.
“I cannot wait to discover everything that makes you come,” she says, lips pulling back to display white teeth.
Her fingers curl against the wall of sensitive flesh and the built-up tension is too much.
“Fuck, I’m going to—” I buck against her, my jaw sagging open.
She thrusts her tongue into my mouth as a third finger enters me. Cass fills me from every angle, and I feel like I’m living out a dangerously perfect dream.
The ache turns quickly to a roaring inferno as I tighten around her fingers, coming hard.
Her hand drops from my neck, pulling me against her to ride her fingers through the orgasm. After a few moments, she begins to rub soothing circles against my clit with her thumb.
I let out a whimper, and she finally slows, still holding me tightly.
My head thuds against her shoulder and she removes her hand from my waistband, wrapping both around my back.
The thrum of my heartbeat is the only noise in the room for what feels like an eon.
“You are so beautiful and perfect for me,” Cass hums, voice no longer that of the icy, unyielding ruler—but the one of a lover.
“You broke me,” I moan, letting her take my weight. “I can’t feel my legs.”
Chapter 51
Interlude II
A new beginning
I want her to be mine. She may not understand at first, and I fear I have already scared her, but I need her in my life as more than an ally. I need her like I need the very air itself. My soul resonates when it is within her orbit, it is only by the grace of Fate herself that my will has not yet crumbled. That I have not yet marked her as mine.
Personal Journal of Bloody Mary, Recovered November 10th, 1030 A.D.
“You broke me,” Arya moans, letting me take her weight. “I can’t feel my legs.”
I let out a chuckle as I pull her closer, feeling the way her body slots against mine. Like she was made for me—and I for her.
“You did not make the trip to the Cradle for this, I presume?” I ask after Arya’s breathing finally regulates.
“Oh,” she gasps out and nearly stumbles backwards into the shelf before I catch her. “Right, yeah.”
“So?” I ask, and she stares up at me like her brain hasn’t yet caught up with the last few minutes.
She blinks a few times and nods again.
“Traitors,” she gasps, grabbing for her pocket. I watch her pull out a dPhone and thumb through it.
She passes me the device, and I frown down at the photos.
The structure of the room tells me it’s in the main dormitory—the one Arya is staying in. But it looks very obviously modified to fit the occupants needs.
