Page 38 of Drenched

“Enough,” I gasped, my voice barely a whisper.

His hands loosened, but he didn’t let me go. “Not until you take everything,” he growled, his tone dragging low. “Let me give you more.”

My breath hitched, the raw hunger in his words sending a fresh wave of heat through me. I hated how my body reacted to him,how the shame I felt mixed so easily with the need. I hated that I wanted more, even now, when I should have been pulling away.

But instead of pulling away, I lowered myself again, fully surrendering this time. His mouth was waiting, his tongue sliding over me in long, deliberate strokes that sent shocks of pleasure straight to my core. I gasped as his lips closed over my clit again, sucking gently, and I couldn’t stop the way my hips rocked against his face, chasing every flick, every pull.

“Fuck,” I whispered, my voice breaking as another orgasm built, sharp and fast, leaving me no time to think. My body tightened, the pressure overwhelming, and I cried out again as it crashed into me, my legs trembling violently.

His hands gripped me harder, holding me steady while my body bucked against him, my chest heaving as the pleasure pulsed through me. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything except ride the waves of it, letting him take me apart again and again.

When it finally stopped, I collapsed against him, my thighs still trembling as I struggled to catch my breath. His hands slid gently over my legs, his touch soft and reverent, as if I might shatter under his fingers. My chest heaved, skin damp with sweat, and I couldn’t bring myself to move.

A low chuckle vibrated through his chest, dark and satisfied. His claws traced slow circles along my inner thigh, the points barely scraping my skin.

“Such a beautiful mess,” he murmured. “The way you unravel for me… it’s intoxicating.” He leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “Your body is perfect when it breaks like this.”

His words should have sparked rage, should have made me shove him away. Instead, a shiver shot through me, sharp and humiliating. My thighs still tingled, the memory of his mouth scorching against my skin. I hated it. Hated how I’d pressed down on him, how his tongue had driven me beyond control, how I’d shattered above him, exposed and desperate.

I hated how his claws had gripped my hips, guiding me, holding me there until I came undone. How I’d let him. How my body hadwantedhim.

I clenched my fists, shame crawling through me. But under the shame was something darker, an insatiable craving I couldn’t kill. A sick part of me that stillwantedto be devoured but I wasn’t going to admit it out loud. Even if he could get into my head and know the truth.

“I hate you,” I whispered, though the words came out weak and hollow.

He chuckled, his hands sliding up to rest on my hips. “Hate me all you want,” he murmured. His voice dragged lower. “But you will crave me again.”

I wanted to deny it, to spit something back at him, but the words refused to come. Instead, I stayed where I was, trembling, furious, and aching all at once. His hands didn’t move, steady and firm on my hips, holding me as if I was something precious.

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating.

My body was spent, my thighs still shaking from the intensity of everything. The stone beneath me was cold, but his skin was cool in a way that felt steady, grounding. My breathing slowed,my chest rising and falling in uneven bursts as the heat in my stomach ebbed into a dull, aching throb.

He shifted slightly, pulling me down against him until my legs rested on either side of his waist. I tensed, instinctively bracing for more, but he didn’t move to touch me again. He simply held me there, his hands firm but not demanding, his gaze quiet and watchful.

“You’re exhausted,” he murmured. “Rest.”

“I don’t, “ I started, my voice came out hoarse, but he cut me off.

“Rest,” he said again, firmer this time. “You have taken enough for now.”

I wanted to argue, to push away from him, to demand he let me go, but my body betrayed me. The adrenaline that had carried me this far had burned out, leaving only the crushing weight of exhaustion. My legs ached, my arms felt like lead, and my head swam with too many thoughts I couldn’t unravel.

Against my better judgment, I let my body slump against him, the tension draining from my muscles. His chest was solid beneath me, his silvery skin cool and smooth, and for a moment, I hated how comforting it felt. My cheek nestled against his shoulder, and his arms shifted slightly, one sliding around my back, the other cradling my hip.

“I should hate this,” I muttered, my voice barely a whisper.

“And yet you don’t,” he replied with certainty.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was too tired to fight him, too tired to fight myself. My eyes fluttered shut, the darkness pressing in around me, and I felt his hand move slowly, lightly, brushing astray curl from my face. The touch was so gentle it almost didn’t feel real.

Chapter Fifteen

I woke up and everything was dead quiet. Not the nice kind of quiet that helps you relax, but the creepy kind that twists your thoughts, making every breath feel wrong. My heart was racing as everything from last night came flooding back, how he'd touched me, how I'd just given in, how I’d completely lost sight of who I was supposed to be.

I could still feel him everywhere. His hands, his mouth, how his scales had wrapped around me like he owned me. Worse still was remembering how my body had reacted. I touched the scars on my neck, hoping they'd feel dead and cold, like any old scar. But no, they were warm and pulsing under my fingers, as if they were part of me now. A permanent reminder.

“Rynar.” His name just slipped out, barely a whisper. The cave threw it back at me, like it was making fun of me. At least he wasn't here. Relief washed over me, but it was too late to get rid of the shame.

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