Page 61 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
I added another finger, using the tips of both to circle my clit, before slipping them inside.
It was like the moment when the music in one of my performances sped and I twisted faster, harder, looking to the audience like I was spinning out of control. But, of course, I was always in control of the hoop, of my body.
Except now, I wasn’t so sure.
Not when I was winding tighter and tighter. Not when I couldn’t escape the golden gaze taking me in with such intensity, it was like another caress. Not when his ministrations with the sponge were slow and firm, hinting at an experienced touch while also denying the heat of his skin.
I was in control. Iwas. His obsession was mine. I was the one holding him here, captivated.
I spun at dizzying speed now, the music building to a crescendo. My skin burned. My breaths rasped. A whimper edged each one.
The throbbing between my legs was a decimating drum beat that crashed through my veins, my nerves, my entire being. My cry echoed off the tiled walls as I came.
He smiled.
“That’s it, pet. Enough, now.”
Aftershocks still bursting through me, I frowned up at him. Only one orgasm? I didn’t deserve any more reward than that, apparently. Jaw clenched, I pulled my hand away and placed it on the bath’s rim.
Long breaths. I needed to pull myself back down to earth if I wasn’t going to be allowed to come again.
Still, a deep, hot ache remained inside, demanding more.
“So angry.” He chuckled and smoothed the hair from my forehead. His claws grazed over my scalp as he buried his fingers in my hair. “I wonder if I can soothe that temper.”
The sponge discarded, he pressed his other hand between my breasts, and I twitched at the skin-to-skin contact I’d been denied as he’d washed me. His touch, beautifully burning, skimmed over my stomach. The muscles there pulled taut as he got closer to my apex.
“Open for me.” His tail slid around the back of my knee, guiding my left leg up over the edge of the bath.
On the other side, I hooked my right leg over to match, heart pounding in glorious and horrified anticipation.
His hand stilled and his eyes flicked to mine. “Tell me to stop, Zita. Tell me you don’t want this.”
This was just a challenge. Beating him at the game we played.
“No. Touch me, Sepher. Reward your pet.” I gave him a sharp smile that spelled out how I would take anything he gave and I would not back down. This was just part of that, just—
His silken touch glided between my folds, and all my excuses fluttered away like a flock of startled birds.
As good as touching myself felt, this was better. Sweet fuck, so, so much better.
I hated it. Loved it. Wanted it. Wanted to run from it. Needed it.
I’d never felt this when any of my patrons had touched me. Or when Eric fucked me.
That had always been straightforward. Physical. Flesh upon flesh.
This was horrible and wonderful and complicated and a fucking mess that I was breaking over.
He stroked my clit with firm pressure, that private smile back on his mouth, a few inches above mine.
I bit my lip harder, resisting the sounds building in my chest even though I knew it was a losing battle.
“Don’t fight this, little bird.” His gaze roved over me as one canine flashed in a lopsided grin. One finger thrust inside, and I lost my battle, back arching, cry echoing. His pupils blew wide.
“Why are you doing this?” I could understand it if he fucked me or made me suck his dick. But he was still fully clothed and showed no sign of taking his pleasure—at least not yet.
“Because you can come harder than that.” With the next thrust, he added another finger, the thickness closer to that stretching fullness I’d craved.
