Page 112 of Nocturne

Zagan somehow understands my silence, and instead of an impatient scowl like before, I see a flash of satisfied smirk flicker on his face before it is gone. It is semi-dark in here, I might have imagined the expression.

I am in an utterly compromised position with my bareness exposed to him as a doll on an exhibition on a table in his office, where anyone could come and see me. The looming danger of getting caught should not elicit the spark of lust as it did, but to my utter embarrassment, it does.

“Push your panty aside and rub your clit with two of your fingers,” His gruff order rings in the room, bouncing off the walls.

His fingers dig into the side of my ankle at my hesitation, and a glance at his face tells me about the looming danger ahead. He silently dares me to defy him so that he can show me what he is willing to retaliate with. And I have enough working neurones to know that whatever it is, I would rather not find it. At least not now.

It has been years since I let a man touch me, let alone have his eyes on my exposed private region with my life dangling in his hands. I reluctantly reach the panty—breathing a sigh of relief when I feel lace—and push the cloth away. I wish the darkness didn’t let him see the wetness already coating my nether lips as I rub my clit with my index and middle finger.

A spark of pleasure dances from between my thighs, weaves all over my body, and wetness pools around my fingers. My breathing turns choppy, and my eyes close in exhilaration, but my body is still aware of the predator looming closely.

“Push those fingers inside your little cunt and keep rubbing your clit with your thumb,”

It is illegal to sound sexy, controlled and unabashed like Zagan does while he orders me with his dirty words. And when did I become a fan of dirty whisperings at the same time my cheeks turned red?

I swap my thumb to my nub and push the two fingers into my slick heat, the pads of my fingers brushing over my velvety walls.

“Deeper,”

I push them deeper, not stopping circling my clit.

Maybe it is because of his masculine presence with me, maybe it is the satisfaction of whipping so many sentences from Zagan, or maybe it is his sexy voice that would undoubtedly be cast as a protagonist in my every wet dream carrying forward from now on, but this time as I pleasured myself it feels different. The pleasure I feel shooting down every nerve ending of my body is nothing like before.

I am not new to sex. Burke was good at what he did. He was a generous lover, but I am starting to realise that he did not bring out the reactions from my body like Zagan. He did not make me want to see a spark of something in those otherwise dead eyes, even by curling my toes inside my heels and arching my back in front of his face.

Zagan remains silent as a small moan erupts from my lips as I move my fingers inside me. He doesn’t have to tell me to keep going. Even if he orders me to stop, I don’t think I can. I pull hard on my bundle of nerves and try to push my fingers deeper. Alas, they aren’t as long or thick as the ones circling my ankle, their grip tightening with every moan coming out of my mouth. I imagine what they would feel like inside me. Those thick, veiny digits would be able to hit the spots I am not able to reach with my tiny, thin ones. Another throaty moan rips out of my mouth at the image.

I grow bolder in the abyss of pleasure and slip low on the table until I am sure that I can feel Zagan’s body warmth close to my body. With the heat of his gaze on me and his sizzling touch on my body, I push on my nerves one last time and rub the side of my walls. The orgasm is like a breath of fresh air that blows life into my starved lungs. It carries on, enveloping me in its loving warmth, making me forget about the surroundings for now.

I could not feel my limbs, and I couldn't care less about the fingers pulling the remnants of my panty off my legs, which had somehow found themselves on either side armrest of the chair Zagan sat on. My eyes are still closed, my fingers still inside me, and my chest heaves as I take in large gulps of air after the exhilaration I felt.

“That is the last time you touch yourself, the last orgasm that is your own. From now on, every orgasm, every moan, every cry,every scream of yours is mine, and no one but I will bring them out. And that includes you as well.”

Before I can understand what he means, he pushes away my hand, and a warm tongue laps on my leaking lips and tears out a loud moan from my lips as my back arches at the sensation. His other hand—the one not touching my ankle—splays over my stomach and pushes me down on the table as his lips enclose around my clit. He sucks on it hard, which has me bucking in his arms, shivers of pleasure coating the insides of my spent body.

His teeth nip my lips as his tongue delves into the hole, thrusting into it with a harshness that has me clenching around his organ. I must have imagined the slight growl or not because there is no way anything other than his touch and mouth is making sense anymore. He sucks on my juices as if he were a starved man, and try as I might, my closed eyes wouldn’t open. It is physically impossible for me to concentrate on anything other than his delirious tongue and lips, bringing me towards the deep dive of the cliff. I want to look at him and watch how the great Zagan Devlin looks as he goes down on me. But for the love of everything holy, I couldn’t.

His movements are sure, precise and without a doubt. Zagan knows how to use his tongue and lips to wreck a woman’s body. Every lick, every nip, every nibble and every frigging suck pushes me closer and closer towards the point of no return. His hard grip on my thighs is delicious, and his tongue lapping on my juices, as well as circling my nub, languidly drives me to insanity, bringing absolute gibberish out of my mouth. One huge palm splays on my lower stomach, holding my body firm on his desk, while the other makes sure to keep my legs open while he goes on a mission to kill me with pleasure.

“Oh god! P…Please stop”

He doesn’t.

If anything, he increases his force, sucking hard on my clit and using his teeth until I cannot differentiate between pain and pleasure any more. This orgasm comes out of nowhere. Like the giant wave crashing down on me with such ferociousness that I scream his name until my throat turns hoarse, and I feel pain dig into my nails with the tightness I scratch his table.

If the orgasm I gave myself turned my limbs into jelly, this one made me numb while the witness from extreme pleasure danced behind my closed eyelids in the form of stars. I feel Zagan licking me clean, and when I open my eyes, I can feel myself getting wet once again at the image that lay in front of me.

Zagan’s piercing grey eyes are fixed on me as wetness coated his beard and shone on his lips. He takes one last lick, starting from the base of my centre to the tip of my clit, which makes my whole body shudder in delight and carnal desire. With the moon keeping his unscarred side hidden and with only his scarred side visible, he looks like a vengeful god whose purpose of revenge is to crumble me until there is nothing inside me to fight.

And I am ready to be the wilful spoils of war if it means being eaten by this man here who looks at me with the first real expression in his eyes other than anger.

Desire.

And it is addictive.

“No one touches you but me. No one even breathes your way, and no other man sure as fuck should even think about having you. Your pleasure is no longer yours. It is mine to control and yours to surrender. Even you are not allowed to bring yourselfthe pleasure that I own. Cross me, and you will not like the repercussions, little siren.”

Done with this ministration, he wipes his chin with my yellow lace panty, pushes it inside his pocket and looks at me with the dark hunger of an insatiable man. His message is clear on his face. His words should make me want to smack him. But why could I think about nothing but wonder what it would feel to have his fingers inside me? Or him? Would I survive? Maybe not.

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