Page 32 of Drenched

His gaze lingered on me, unflinching. Then his lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. “Oh, Pearl, there are fates worse than death.” He murmured. “Allow me to give you a glimpse.”

At first, fear consumed me. My mind raced, imagining what he might do. But he didn’t move. He was just there, crouched infront of me, watching me.

And then it happened.

My breath caught as invisible touches brushed over my arms, skimming my shoulders and sliding down my back. The sensation was light but sent a shiver through me.

“What... what are you doing?” I managed, my voice trembling.

He didn’t respond. His dark eyes remained locked on mine. His gaze seemed like a force all its own, rooting me in place. It wasn’t like being touched, it was being claimed. The warmth of it wasn’t natural, not something my mind could rationalize. It was him, his presence surrounding me, invading me, binding me in a way that made my skin prickle and my breath hitch.

“Stop,” I gasped. My voice didn’t match the heat spreading through me, the way my body betrayed me, leaning into the sensation before I could stop myself.

“You say stop,” Rynar murmured, his voice curling through my mind like smoke, “but your body disagrees.”

I wanted to scream at him, to fight, but my muscles refused to obey. The touch trailed lower, ghosting over my collarbone and the hollow of my throat. It lingered there before dipping lower, tracing the gentle slope of my chest. A shiver ran through me as my back arched involuntarily, my skin burned under the phantom caress.

“Don't,” I whispered but there was no conviction in those words.

The pressure didn’t stop. It grew firmer, bolder, brushing over the swell of my breasts. My nipples hardened instantly, reacting to the warmth that wasn’t really there. The heat of my humiliation mixed with something darker, deeper, something I couldn’t name and didn’t want to acknowledge.

“You can’t hide from me, Pearl,” Rynar purred. “Not your thoughts. Not your desires. Not even this.”

His words burned in my ears, but it was the touch that consumed me. It circled one nipple sending sparks of sensation shooting through me. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my breath coming in shallow gasps as my body reacted, traitorous and hungry for more.

My hands shot up instinctively, trying to cover myself, to shield my body from the invisible force that seemed to know me too intimately. But the moment my palms met my chest, the touch shifted, pressing against my hands, pushing them away. Myarms fell limp at my sides, as though he’d willed them to obey him instead of me.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, crouching closer. “Your body already knows who it belongs to.”

“I don’t belong to you,” I spat, my voice cracking as I forced the words out through clenched teeth.

He tilted his head, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. “Your body disagrees.”

The invisible force swept lower, tracing the curve of my waist, the soft swell of my stomach. My thighs clenched together instinctively, a futile attempt to shield myself from whatever came next. But the touch was merciless, pressing against my knees, coaxing them apart with maddening ease.

I moaned, my hands scrambling to grab the seaweed wrapped around me, trying to hold it in place as if it could protect me. Rynar’s gaze flicked downward, amusement dancing in his shadowed eyes as he watched me struggle.

“Modesty,” he murmured, his tone almost mocking. “How quaint.”

“Go to hell,” I snapped, the heat in my cheeks burning brighter as the touch grew more insistent.

But the pressure didn’t falter. It skimmed up my inner thighs, featherlight and deliberate, teasing the sensitive skin until I was trembling. I bit my lip hard, trying to stifle the sound that threatened to escape, a soft, desperate whimper that would betray everything I was trying to deny.

“Such resistance.” Rynar’s tone softened, almost gentle. “And yet…”

The touch reached the apex of my thighs, brushing against the heat pooling there. The rough seaweed did nothing to block the sensation; it slipped through as if it wasn’t even there, teasing the sensitive folds beneath. My head fell back against the wall, a strangled moan slipping past my lips before I could stop it.

“It’s pointless to fight,” he murmured, his tone slipping through me like a whisper. “Feel it. Let it guide you.”

“No,” I managed, but it was a lie. My hips jerked forward involuntarily, seeking the relief my mind refused to admit I wanted. The invisible force responded immediately, pressing harder, circling with maddening precision. My breath hitched, my thighs trembled as the pressure inside me built faster than I could keep up with.

“Do you feel it?” he asked, his tone dark, possessive. “The way your body craves what your mind denies?”

I hated him. I hated the way he read me so effortlessly, the way he unraveled me piece by piece. But most of all, I hated the way my body answered him, responding to every calculated touch, every deliberate stroke, with a hunger I couldn’t control.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, a raw mix of frustration, humiliation, and something deeper. “Stop,” I gasped, though the word was barely more than a broken whisper.

“But you don’t want me to stop,” he murmured, his tone laced with dark amusement. “Not really.”

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