Page 28 of Edging Sanity

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Rowan would drown in Delilah before she was done. She needed to feel her, to drink in her moans and share her pleasure.

“Turn around,” she ordered, keeping herself inside but otherwise releasing the hold on Delilah’s hand. She grabbed Delilah’s hip, trying to turn her. She kissed Delilah’s neck, her fingers tightening against Delilah’s hip, tugging her. But Delilah refused to move.

Instead, Delilah’s perfect fingers grabbed Rowan’s hand, removing her grip from Delilah’s hip and dragging her hand up, under the loose scrub top that Rowan was dying to rip off. A silent demand that Rowan, again, was helpless to refuse.

She clawed Delilah’s stomach with blunt nails before pushing up her bra and pinching her nipples. It was such a high being able to touch Delilah like this, her breasts spilling out of Rowan’s hand, her arousal drenching Rowan’s palm as she kept curling and fucking Delilah hard. She bit Delilah’s shoulders, thrusting in and whimpering with her own need as Delilah tightened around her.

Delilah’s moans grew louder, her body clenching and—just a taste.

Rowan’s jumbled thoughts snapped back through the haze. Her plan. Her need for Delilah to be dependent on her, to be addicted to her. Rowan was so turned on that it took everything in her to pull back. Edging Delilah had been the plan, not her own damn sanity.

“Rowan,” Delilah growled, her tone threatening as she, too, realized what Rowan was doing—already withdrawing her wandering hands, slipping out of Delilah’s bra and underwear.

“Delilah,” Rowan replied, her voice coming out like a whine—undignified and desperate. The name a plea instead of a threat to match Delilah’s.

Delilah turned quickly. She grabbed Rowan’s wrist, an evil glint in her eyes as she brought soaking wet fingers up to her lips. Rowan had no delusions—as Delilah’s wicked tongue swirled around her fingers—that anything other than torturous punishment awaited her. Unfortunately, that only turned her on more.

They were so close, Rowan’s eyes locked on her fingers as they disappeared into Delilah’s full, pale lips. She was so enraptured. It wasn’t hard to imagine that delicious tongue moving lower down her body. Delilah’s hand slowly traced the path that Rowan wanted her mouth to take.

Without warning, a jolting current of pain ran down her thigh. Her lust-fogged brain didn’t comprehend what happened until her muscles had locked up and she’d fallen to her knees, face buried in Delilah’s crotch and the hand that wasn’t held captive clutched at Delilah’s thigh for support.

Seconds later, the pulsing in her sore body slowly became more bearable. Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth in an effort not to scream, and she finally gained enough control to look up. Delilah still held Rowan’s wrist in one hand, smirking down at Rowan as she gasped for breath. Delilah had Rowan’s stun gun held lazily in her other hand. It wasn’t the first time she’d been tased, and given the sheer excitement in Delilah’s eyes, she knew it wouldn’t be the last.

Heat mingled with burning pain and—somehow—flooded her veins with arousal at the sight.

“I told you,” Delilah whispered dangerously, “that I’d want you on your knees.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

They were playing a dangerous game. Flirting with disaster, should their affair be discovered. If Bronwin noticed the pained and cramped way Rowan walked after being fucking tased, she hadn’t said anything, thankfully.

Leaving Delilah in that room after what they’d done was harder than Rowan thought it would be. But she needed separation—if only for a bit. She needed to wash her hands of the evidence, turn the damn camera back on before the next guard saw it was out, and worst of all, she needed to change her boxers.

Then, having to stand against the wall in Bronwin’s office while her muscles still ached and the pain still pulsed through her leg—while still horrendously turned on—was excruciating. And of course Delilah brought up seeing Rowan’s office. Again. Specifically, when Bronwin told Delilah that due to her good behavior thus far, so long as nothing happened in the next twenty-four hours, she would be allowed her excursion.

Supervised, of course. With Rowan. As she wanted.

The idea of taking Delilah to her office and bending her over the desk was stuck in Rowan’s mind, playing on repeat. She knew she’d need to plan—clean up her desk, make everything presentable. She had to figure out how to get her strap past security. The idea was so enticing that Rowan had immediately gone back to her office, unable to hold back anymore after touching Delilah that morning.

She didn’t allow herself to touch Delilah again that day. She needed her waiting, needed her to build up the anticipation, to fall into the craving and the need. But that didn’t stop her from imagining Delilah bent over her desk while she worked herself closer to her orgasm. Delilah’s bare ass slapping against Rowan’s thighs. Her moans uninhibited, filling the room.

Maybe Rowan was breaking after all, she thought as she fell over the edge with Delilah’s name on her lips.

In the morning, Rowan wasted no time getting everything situated. She’d come in twenty minutes early to clear off her desk, cleaning it when she’d finished, and attaching a small hook to the underside. It hadn’t been hard to smuggle everything in—including her strap. Then, she’d gone about her rounds as normal.

Anticipation built while she checked the cameras and made her rounds. It was amazing that only one person had noticed she was distracted. She’d brushed them off easily. Everyone knew by now that she was responsible for the infamous serial killer, and being distracted by her was an excuse that had more meanings than anyone could parse together.

She’d barely held herself together through Delilah’s therapy session, not paying attention to a single word they’d said once it was clear that Delilah would be discussing her kills again and not focusing on Rowan. And why wouldn’t she ignore Rowan now? She was angry about the orgasm denial, sure, but she’d gotten what she’d wanted. And god help her, Rowan was about to give Delilah what she wanted again.

“You can take a break. I’ll handle things from here,” Rowan told the guards once Delilah’s session had finished. They shifted, eyebrows scrunching as they exchanged confused glances, their attention darting between Rowan and Delilah. “This one’s earned an excursion. Good behavior, per Dr. Bronwin.”

Her jaw was clenched tight as she waited for them to follow orders. Rowan was their boss. She didn’t have to explain shit to them, and the way they hesitated made her want to fire both of them right then. Fortunately, they relented, whether it was from her words or glare, she didn’t care.

“Be back to guard her room in an hour,” Rowan called as they walked away. She heard a muttered “yes, boss” but didn’t bother listening for more. Because now she had Delilah all to herself.

Rowan’s grip was tight on Delilah’s bicep as they walked together in surprising silence down the twisting halls. Convenient planning meant that her office was located in the same wing as Delilah’s room. They’d been close from the start, not that Delilah had known it. Just as Rowan hoped when she’d subtly suggested the location to Adele all those weeks ago.