Chapter Three #3
Something about hearing it from him gets past every defense I have left, and I let go.
He kisses a scorching path down my belly, lingering, before nudging my thighs apart.
He settles between them, parting my wet pussy with his thumbs like he's revealing something precious.
My slick, swollen clit is completely exposed.
The first circle of his finger over it sends a jolt through me so powerful my hips lift off the bed.
He watches my face the entire time, his focus absolute.
"Fuck," I gasp out, the only word I have left.
"There you are," he says, a predator who's finally cornered his prey. He circles my clit, his fingers so hot I feel like I'm burning from the inside out. "Let me hear you."
I'm so wet there's no hiding how much I want this.
He sinks one thick finger inside me and the feeling of being stretched, filled by his heat, burns every coherent thought from my mind.
He adds a second, curls them until he finds my G-spot, and drags them against it.
A strangled scream tears from my throat as my thighs start to shake uncontrollably.
His thumb never stops its ruthless circling, and the pressure coils in my gut, tight and desperate, until I can't even draw a breath.
"Soren—" My voice shatters. "Please—"
"I know, baby. I've got you. Come whenever you want. You don't have to earn it… not today."
That's the fucking key. Not today. The implication that other times I will, but that this first time is a gift.
It's too much. The locks I've spent a lifetime building on my pleasure fucking disintegrate.
I scream his name as my orgasm rips through me, my pussy clenching and pulsing around his fingers in violent waves.
A raw, guttural cry is torn from my throat as I come apart, shattering completely.
He doesn't stop, pushing me through every aftershock, his thumb a merciless anchor on my clit until I'm boneless and utterly spent.
Only then does his hand go still, cupping my pussy while I tremble back into my skin.
"Good girl," he says, the words a balm on my wrecked senses.
I'm crying again by the time he gathers me against him, and I couldn't tell you exactly what I'm crying about. He settles me against his chest, one arm wrapped securely around me, and stays there while my breathing slowly returns to normal.
I only realize later that we spend nearly an hour on aftercare, because for once I don't check the time.
Soren wraps me in enough blankets that moving becomes optional, puts a mug of tea into my hands, and brings a plate of cut fruit over to the bed before settling behind me against the headboard.
I lean back against his chest, tucked between his legs, while the weight of the blankets presses pleasantly over me.
Somewhere beneath all of it, I finally stop feeling like I should be doing something.
He offers me a slice of pear. My first instinct is to make a joke about being hand-fed fruit by a dragon, but I'm too tired to hide behind one, so I open my mouth and let him feed me.
"What's your favorite book?" he asks after a while.
"Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier."
"Why?"
The question catches me off guard. "I first read it when I was sixteen, and I've reread it every autumn since." I take another piece of pear from him. "I don't know. It became this little tradition that was just mine, I guess."
"So autumn is your season."
"Definitely."
He asks where I like to read, whether I still have the same copy I bought when I was sixteen. They're ordinary questions, but he listens to the answers instead of waiting for an opening to talk about himself. By the time I realize how much I've told him, I've also noticed something else.
A low vibration hums through his chest against my back.
I stay still for a few seconds, listening. It gets stronger when I settle more comfortably against him.
"What is that?"
Soren goes completely still, and the sound stops. "Nothing."
I turn enough to put my palm against his chest. A few seconds later, the vibration starts beneath my hand again.
I look up at him. "Are you purring?"
His expression suggests he'd prefer we discuss anything else.
I bite back a smile and settle against him again. His arm tightens slightly around me, and before long the purr returns, low and steady against my back.
I like it far too much.
Eventually I get dressed, although leaving takes longer than it should. Before I go, Soren stops me near the door.
"I'm giving you three rules until I see you again. First, you eat breakfast every morning. A real breakfast, sitting down, not something you inhale on your way to work."
I open my mouth to defend perfectly respectable breakfast bars, but he's already holding up a second finger.
"Seven hours of sleep a night. Minimum. And once every day, you're going to say no to something you would normally agree to."
"That last one seems a little—"
"That's the one you're going to struggle with." There's the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. "The other two are straightforward. That one requires you to disappoint someone occasionally."
Well. When he puts it like that, I hate it even more.
"If you manage all three, there'll be a reward when I see you next session. If you don't, you tell me what got in the way and we deal with it then." He tips my chin up with one finger. "Can you do that for me?"
Yes rises automatically. It's the answer I give Richard when he drops something on my desk at four in the afternoon, the one I give Mom when she needs something handled and Bree when she promises she'll pay me back next week.
This time, I stop before I say it.
Three breakfasts. Seven hours of sleep. One no a day.
I can do that.
"Yes, sir."
"Good girl."
The words stay with me all the way outside.
By the time I reach my car, my hair is still damp and my skin still carries the warmth of Soren. I get behind the wheel, start the engine, and sit there instead of putting it in reverse.
I don't feel relaxed exactly. That word seems too small for whatever has happened to me in the last two hours. Mostly, I feel present in my own body in a way I haven't for a long time, aware of the weight of my hands in my lap and the warmth still lingering beneath my clothes.
I should go home. There's work I could get a head start on, Mom will probably call, and Bree has been suspiciously quiet all day.
Instead, I take out my phone.
I stare at it for a moment before opening the booking page. Soren's name appears at the top, followed by his available appointments, and whatever argument I'm supposed to have with myself about whether coming back is a good idea never gets started.
I book another session before I even leave the driveway.
The confirmation lands in my inbox a few seconds later, and this time, I don't consider canceling it.