Page 111 of Manic

The way Tor makes me feel is unlike anything I've ever experienced—a heady mixture of desire, comfort, and an overwhelming sense of rightness.

"God, Tor," I breathe, my fingers gripping his shoulders for support.

The dryer's hum seems to fade into the background as my focus narrows to Tor's touch, his scent, the intensity in his gaze.

Tor's lips crash into mine, silencing any further protests.

His strong hands shove me back against the dryer even more, the metal cool against my heated skin.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer as fumbles with his jeans, freeing himself.

He pushes inside me with one powerful thrust.

The sensation is overwhelming, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

Tor sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming against mine with an urgency that matches the thunder of my heartbeat.

"Shh," he whispers against my ear, his breath hot on my skin. "Remember, we gotta be quiet."

I nod, burying my face in his neck to muffle my moans.

The vibrations from the dryer add another layer of sensation, and I can feel myself rapidly approaching the edge.

Tor's hand comes up to cover my mouth as he senses my impending release.

It's just in time—my scream of ecstasy is muffled against his palm as waves of pleasure crash over me.

As my inner walls clench around him, I feel Tor stiffen, his own climax following close behind.

For a moment, we stay locked together, our ragged breathing the only sound in the small laundry room.

Then reality starts to seep back in, and I become acutely aware of our precarious situation.

"We should..." I start, but Tor's already moving, helping me down from the dryer.

We hastily clean up and straighten our clothes, exchanging heated glances and suppressed giggles like teenagers.

Just as Tor reaches for the doorknob, I hear footsteps approaching.

"Shit," I mutter, my heart leaping into my throat.

Tor opens the door, and there stands Tindra, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. "What are you two doing in here?"

I freeze, my mind racing for an explanation.

Tor glances back at me, and I see a flicker of panic in his eyes before he manages to school his expression.

Thinking quickly, I reach between the washer and dryer, pretending to grab something. "Your dad tried to fix this damn hose for me," I say, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel. "But there's a hole in it so he wrapped it up. We'll need to go to a hardware store tomorrow and swap it out."

I hold my breath, waiting to see if Tindra buys the lie.

The fear of being caught, of permanently scarring our child, mixes with the lingering afterglow of our encounter, creating a dizzying cocktail of emotions.

Tindra scrunches up her face, her delicate features contorting in a way that reminds me so much of Tor. "Ugh, and this is why I'm glad dad is around, so he can do all this manly stuff."

I bite my lip, trying not to laugh at the irony of her statement.

If only she knew what her dad wasreallydoing in here just moments ago.

---