Page 36 of Drenched

I sank to the floor, the dagger clutched tightly in my hand. My body trembled, every word and touch lingering on my skin.

You’re my purpose.

Chapter Fourteen

At first, I didn’t realize it was a dream. The sensations were too sharp, too vivid. I was lying on my back, the coolness of the stone beneath me grounding me in a way that felt unmistakably real, even as warmth spread across my skin. Hands slid over me, slow and deliberate, their touch firm yet reverent. They weren’t rushed or greedy, they were measured, as if they wanted to memorize every curve, every inch of me.

Fingers trailed over my arms, skimming my shoulders before moving lower. They brushed against my ribs, following the dip of my waist, lingering at the soft curve of my hips. A shiver ran through me as they moved upward again, savoring the texture of my skin. My breath hitched when warm lips followed, pressing soft, deliberate kisses against my collarbone in an unhurried, tender rhythm.

The mouth moved lower, trailing down to my breasts. The heat of it sent sparks racing across my nerves, sharp and insistent. When it wrapped around my nipple, my body arched instinctively. A flick of the tongue followed, teasing and precise, sending a shock straight to my core. My gasps escaped unbidden as the pressure of his mouth built, pulling me into sensations too intense to ignore.

The lips didn’t rush. They lingered, savoring every moment. My hands fisted at my sides, unsure of what to do, while his tongue continued to work me, slow and rhythmic, each pull igniting a new wave of heat. When his lips finally left my breast, a pang of loss hit me, but it was immediately replaced by the ache of anticipation.

The kisses trailed lower, down my stomach, his tongue mapping the contours of my body. Each motion felt purposeful, like it was meant to mark me, claim me in ways that words couldn’t. My thighs fell open without hesitation, my body responding instinctively. His hands slid between them, firm yet careful, as if testing the boundaries of my willingness. His fingers spread me open, and then his mouth was there.

The first stroke of his tongue over my clit sent a jolt through me. It was sharp, undeniable, and my hips arched on their own, chasing the sensation before I could stop myself. He didn’t stop. He circled my clit with deliberate precision, his tongue firm but soft in a way that made me tremble. My hands groped for something solid, desperate for an anchor, and I found the edge of the stone beneath me, gripping it tightly as if it could steady the storm within.

He moved with infuriating patience, sliding his tongue lower to tease my entrance before returning to my clit. Each flick, each motion, built a pressure in my stomach that coiled tighter with every second. When his lips closed around me, sucking gently, the heat spiked. My head tilted back, a broken moan escaping me as my hips rocked against his mouth.

“Mine,” a voice murmured, deep and resonant, vibrating against me. “Every part of you.”

The words should have terrified me, but they didn’t. They sent another surge of heat rushing through me, leaving me trembling. My hands gripped the stone harder as his tongue pressed deeper, working me in ways that left me breathless. The pleasure built steadily, sharp and insistent, until it became too much to contain. My thighs quivered, my breath came in shallow bursts, and my body arched as the orgasm tore through me.

I cried out, my voice raw, my body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. His tongue didn’t stop. It slowed, drawing out every pulse of sensation until I was gasping, trembling, unable to think of anything but him. Even when my thighs tried to close, oversensitive and overwhelmed, his hands held me open. He tasted me like he couldn’t get enough, his tongue exploring me with unrelenting curiosity.

When I finally woke, my chest heaved, my skin felt slick with sweat. The remnants of the dream clung to me like a shadow, too vivid. My thighs trembled, and the ache between them was sharp, undeniable. My body felt too alive, every nerve still buzzing. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if it had been real.

And when I turned, I saw him.

Rynar sat at the edge of the pool, his silvery form gleaming faintly in the algae’s glow. His black eyes were locked on me, unblinking, like he’d been watching for hours. His presence filled the cavern, oppressive and inescapable.

“What…” My throat tightened around the word. “What were you doing?”

His lips curved faintly, but his gaze stayed steady. “Watching you dream,” he said simply.

The lingering heat in my body surged again, curling low in my stomach. “You were in my dream.” My voice wobbled, barely holding together. “You were, “

“Tasting you,” he breathed the words. Simple. Brutal. “Watching you fall apart.”

My cheeks burned, the words cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. “You’re disgusting,” I snapped, though the tremor in my voice betrayed the anger I tried to muster.

“Am I?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Or are you lying to yourself? Your body knows the truth, even if you refuse to admit it.”

I clenched my thighs together, desperate to ignore the throbbing heat.“You know nothing about me.” I spat.

At first, I didn’t even realize how close he was. He wasn’t by the blue hole anymore, he was right next to me. He sat there, too still, too quiet, and it set my nerves on edge. His black eyes dropped to my hands, then to my wrists, tracing the faint scars like he was reading something written there. His fingers brushed over the lines so carefully, almost like they meant something to him. A shiver worked its way through me, leaving my whole body tense.

“Why do you do this?” His eyes stayed locked on mine. The stillness in his tone cut deeper than any sharp edge. “Why hurt yourself?”

I jerked my hand back, cradling it against my chest. “That’s none of your business,” I said sharply, though my voice cracked. The vulnerability clawed at me, raw and exposed.

“It is.” He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. “What you do to yourself concerns me.”

Anger flared in my chest, but it fizzled out as quickly as it came. The way he looked at me, unwavering, steady, made it impossible to hide. My throat tightened, shame twisting in my stomach. “It’s not about dying,” I said finally, my voice barely audible. “It’s about feeling like I have control. Like I can decide something when everything else is chaos.”

“Do you feel in control now?” The words slid under my skin, making my chest feel like it might shatter.

The question cut deep. “No,” I admitted, the word bitter. “Not anymore. But sometimes… sometimes it’s the only thing that silences the noise.”

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