Page 36 of Nidev and Lyric

“Take it out,” he ordered.

Her breath caught as she worked her hand inside his pants, feeling the heat of him, the hard muscle beneath. And his scent, God help her, he was delicious.

Her fingers brushed against smooth silk, and she pulled it free, her heart pounding.

“Give it to me.”

She obeyed, placing the strip of material in his waiting hand.

She barely had time to take a breath before the fabric appeared before her face. “Close your eyes.”

She closed them, swallowing.

The silk pressed against her eyelids then the fabric pulled slowly, tighter, putting her in darkness. Darkness, with heat at her back. Breath against her neck. Then at her ear. “Now… Hold out your right hand.”

Lyric raised it, palm up, waiting while her insides jittered. Something settled into it.

“What is it?” he asked, breath still soft on her ear.

She closed her fingers around it and used her other hand to feel. She paused at finding what felt like metal teeth. A key? Her fingertips mapped the ridges, the notches, wanting to make sure. “A key,” she murmured when she was confident.

He said nothing and her breath shallowed. Then finally, “And do you know what it unlocks?” The testing way he asked made her stomach tighten. Before she could think of an answer, he leaned in, his voice like velvet. “You.”

His hand covered hers, then he opened her fingers and took the key. She felt another something placed in her palm.

“Again,” he ordered, his rough voice drawing a shiver through her. “Tell me what you feel.”

She pressed her fingertips against it. Rolled it between them. Something small and smooth… no, there was a break in the surface. A seam? A hinge? She traced the unfamiliar ridges, hunting for something she could name. A full minute of no answer felt like a fail, so she admitted defeat. “…I don’t know.”

“It’s a cufflink.”

The answer surprised her but the way he said it caused everything to shift inside her.

“My cufflink.”

The possessive distinction meant something. Anything directly relating to him was noteworthy. It suddenly mattered and she held it differently.

His fingers again curled over hers, hot, pressing her grip tighter around it.

“It doesn’t fasten anything important. Just a sleeve. Just fabric.” A slow drag of his thumb over her knuckles. “But it locks something in place, doesn’t it?”

His hand rose and his fingers ghosted over the first button of her blouse.

“Take it off,” he murmured.

Her breath caught and she hesitated for a second then quickly obeyed. One by one, she worked them loose, her hands trembling in fear and excitement. She let the blouse slide from her shoulders, the cool air raising goosebumps on her skin. The pleated skirt followed, unfastened, unzipped, then pooling at her feet.

She felt him… watching her. And the knowing of it was heavier than anything.

She removed her bra next. Then her panties.

She swallowed. A soft, strangled sound clawed its way up her throat as she felt the heat of him just behind her again. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Fought not to anticipate.

The silence crawled over her skin and settled in her bones as she stood there, every inch of her exposed to him. He liked her body, but this was still torture. She had enough self-loathing for both of them.

Something soft traced the line of her collarbone and she gasped. It moved slowly. Deliberate. A whisper of sensation, barely there. He dragged it lower, down the slope of her breast, right over her nipple, stealing her breath. It skimmed her ribs, ghosted over her stomach.

“Tell me what you feel.”

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