Chapter 13 #2
“Just look at you… a fuckable feast.” His gaze moved over me slowly, as though taking his time was part of the indulgence itself.
“I want to devour you.” His fingers caught the hem of my pajama top then, tugging lightly at the fabric as his eyes lifted back to mine. The movement unhurried, almost questioning, despite the hunger burning beneath it. As though he were giving me the choice rather than taking it.
And I knew what he was waiting for…
My permission.
I nodded, even as my breath caught in my throat.
Yet he didn’t hesitate, his hands tightening on the material as he lifted it smoothly up and over my body.
The cool air brushing against my skin in its wake.
But it wasn’t the chill that made me shiver.
It was the way his gaze changed the second I was exposed to him.
His eyes darkened, glowing faintly in a way that sent a sharp, unexpected heat curling through me. Something primal and consuming in the way he looked at me made it impossible to mistake what he was thinking.
It felt like being claimed….
Not through touch, not yet, but through something much deeper. Through the way he looked at me, with an intensity that made my body react before I could stop it. A subtle shift beneath him, a quiet, involuntary response to the weight of his gaze alone.
No one had ever looked at me like that before. Not with that kind of intent, not as though every inch of me was something worth memorizing. Something he intended to hold onto long after the moment had passed.
The intensity should have unsettled me.
Instead, it made my heart leap, and my breath catch.
But I forced it away before it could read too much into it.
Pushing aside everything that didn’t belong to this moment.
Because I didn’t want to think about what came after.
Didn’t want to consider what tomorrow might look like or what this would mean once the night was over.
I had meant what I’d said, it had been a long time.
Long enough for doubt to creep in, long enough for hesitation to feel safer than this.
And yet, lying beneath him now, I realized just how little that mattered. Because whatever uncertainty I had carried with me, it didn’t stand a chance against the quiet certainty of him.
It became clear very quickly that this wasn’t unfamiliar territory for him. That control came naturally and effortlessly in a way that might have intimidated me once. But instead, I found myself yielding to it without resistance, letting go of the tension I hadn’t even realized I was holding onto.
And surprisingly…
I liked it.
More than liked it even. Especially when he lowered over me once more, his movements slower now, more measured.
As though he was savoring the shift between us just as much as I was.
His lips brushed against my skin in a way that sent a soft breath from me before I could stop it.
The contact trailed from my neck, unhurried and warm, down along the curve of my collarbone.
Each touch lingered just enough to leave behind a quiet awareness that spread through me in its wake.
The erotic journey taking him down to my breasts, making me cry out when he took the first nipple into his mouth and rolled it between his teeth.
The sharp sting pulled a breath from me.
Air catching between my own teeth before it slipped into a soft, helpless sound as he soothed it almost immediately after.
The contrast between the two sensations far more overwhelming than it had any right to be.
He didn’t rush, didn’t move on, instead, repeating the pattern with passionate focus. As though he had all the time in the world and every intention of using it, drawing each reaction from me slowly, methodically, until my thoughts began to blur.
It became clear, far too quickly, that whatever limited experience I had clung to was utterly useless here.
As Wye wasn’t a man who rushed toward an end goal.
Nor was he someone concerned with brief moments of distraction before claiming what he truly wanted.
No, this was something entirely different.
Something far more precise, far more consuming, and entirely focused on the journey rather than the destination. That destination being…
Me.
Because as he continued, unrelenting in his pace, the sensation coiled tightly inside me. Which was when a slow realization began to form. He hadn’t moved beyond my breasts for a reason, and it wasn’t hesitation or restraint. Not in the way I had first assumed. It was intention, as he was waiting.
Waiting for me.
And the moment that understanding settled, the word slipped free before I could stop it.
“Please…”
The faintest hint of a smile brushed against my skin in response, one felt rather than seen. The quiet sound that followed only made the heat beneath my skin flare further.
“Mmm… what a delightful sound that makes,” he murmured, his voice low, threaded with unmistakable satisfaction.
“But tell me, my beauty… what is it you want?” The seductive question made me moan.
“Please…” I tried again, the word softer this time, less certain. Because even as I said it, I realized it wasn’t enough, not for a man like him… a demon like him.
A quiet breath of amusement followed, warm against my skin as he lingered there, unhurried, entirely in control.
“As beautiful as that is, I want more,” he continued smoothly before there was a subtle shift in his tone, something deeper, more intent.
“Give me more, Eliza… tell me what you want.”
So, I decided to be brave and give him what he wanted, and in doing so, finally admit what I wanted as well.
“I want you to…” I started, only to falter at the last second, the words catching somewhere between thought and voice as hesitation crept in. A soft hum met my hesitation, low and encouraging as it vibrated against my skin.
“That’s it…” he murmured, the approval in his tone sending a subtle shiver through me.
“You can do it… Now tell me what you want.” His demand caused me to swallow hard, nodding slightly as I forced myself to push past that final barrier. My voice was quieter now, but far more certain as I finally gave him something real.
“I… I want you to touch me.”
For a brief moment, I thought that would be enough.
It wasn’t.
A soft, almost amused sound left him, something dangerously close to a reprimanding tut as it brushed against my cheek. His presence still far too steady, far too in control.
“Now, now…” he murmured, the words laced with quiet amusement.
“You can do better than that.”
There was a pause then, as though he had no intention of letting me hide behind vague answers. His voice lowered further as he pressed just a fraction closer.
“Where do you want me to touch you?” he asked softly, and I took a deep breath and told him.
“My… My pussy… I want you to touch my pussy.” I said, and he hummed proudly. A low, satisfied sound rumbled against my cheek before he praised,
“Good girl.”