Page 69 of Gathered Sparkle

But then Koen’s mouth leaves my thigh, the imprint of his teeth burning hot, a sting that fades into a dull, delicious ache.

Mine.The thought is sudden, unbidden, but it sinks in deep. He’s marking me as his, but I want to mark him too. So I reach down and dig my nails in his forearm. He hisses, but it only stokes the fire in his eyes.

He pushes up my thigh, pressing it toward my stomach, opening me wider. His tongue follows the path of his hands, tracing a wet, heated line from the tender bite mark all the way up to my knee. He moves torturously slowly, every nerve in my body strung tight with every sensation.

“Didn’t you understand the instructions?”

“I’m not dense, Koen.” I glare at him, frustration swirling with desire. “You don’t need to train me like one of your mentalism subjects.”

His low chuckle rumbles against my skin. “No, precious. You’re too sharp for that. But you still don’t see what I do.”

His fingers slide along my slit, a feather-light touch that makes me gasp and arch toward him. “I’m worthy,” he repeats, his tone commanding. “Say it.”

I shake my head. “You said I shouldn’t lie.”

Koen exhales sharply, looking almost pained. Like my refusal to believe this hurts him more than anything else could.

He growls softly, letting go of my thigh, his fingers tracing my slit, spreading the wetness but deliberately avoiding where I need him most. It’s maddening, a slow torment that makes my body hum with desperation.

“That’s not a lie. Youarefucking worthy.” His fingers continue to tease, skirting the edges of my clit but never touching it, never giving me the relief I crave. My hips roll toward him once more, but he holds me firm. “You think your body is your weapon. Your strength. Your worth.” His tongue flicks out, tasting the crease where my thigh meets my hip. “Maybe you think it’s the only thing you’re worth.”

My heart pounds so hard it echoes in my ears, drowning out everything but him, and I can’t breathe.

“But even if it’s… glorious,” he continues, his fingers slick with my wetness as he slides them back and forth, slow and languid. “You’re so much more.”

“And still, I’m not worthy of you,” I choke out, my body trembling with frustration and longing.

“Oh, you’re very fucking much worthy of me.” Koen’s eyes flash, his jaw tense. “Of them. Of all of us.” He almost growls. “And you know why?”

“Why?” The word escapes me on a breathless moan.

“Because I fucking said so.” His fingers press harder against me, circling the edge of my entrance. “I’m the one in charge. My opinion is the only one that matters. And I say you’re utterly fucking worthy. Understood?”

His conviction cracks something inside me. The sheer force of his belief in me is overwhelming, devastating, and healing.

Worthy.

The word hits a wall inside me, but he keeps chipping away at it, his belief louder than the echo of my insecurities.

If Koen Lane says it, who am I to deny it?

I think of how they’ve treated me—not only Koen, but all of them, how they look at me like I’m more than a stripper, a thief. Like I’m someone to be trusted. Someone who belongs. Something more than the broken pieces I’ve been holding together for years.

“Understood.”

“Then tell me.”

“I’m worthy,” I breathe out, the admission sliding past my lips like a secret I’ve kept from myself. But it doesn’t feel wrong. It feelsright.Like something I should have always known.

“Yes, you fucking are.” His voice is thick with pride and something else I can’t name but feel in the way he looks at me.

He presses a kiss just above my clit, his lips lingering, not just teasing but reverent, like he’s worshiping the words just as much as he’s worshiping me.

Like he’s claiming them as truth.

“That’s my girl.”

Two fingers slide into me, the stretch slow, designed to make me feel every inch of him. He spits on my clit before his mouth finally descends, his tongue flicking out to tease it in tandem with his thrusting fingers. But as suddenly as he started, he stops, his mouth leaving me. My body clenches around theemptiness as he withdraws his fingers, the wet pad of one tracing a slow circle on the inside of my thigh.

---