Page 105 of Unrequited
The words come out quiet and broken, fragile like glass on tile.
A tear slips down and hits the floor before I even know it’s there. My chest tightens.
“There,” he says again, softer this time, smoothing his palm over me, again and again. Each pass is reassurance and claim, comfort and control.
“That’s a good girl.”
The way he says it… god, the way those words wash over me.
Then his hand shifts and slides between my thighs, nudging them apart with the back of his fingers. A subtle command.
His fingers find me wet, throbbing, and desperate, and he groans low, like the sound was pulled from somewhere deep in his chest.
“Just as I thought,” he murmurs, his voice thick now, heavy with knowing. “You’re aroused again, aren’t you?”
I nod, almost ashamed by how badly I need him.
The desire climbs through me like fire, licking every nerve and demandingmore.
It’s shocking how fast it returns. How much harder it hits.
I’ve never come more than once in a night, but with him? With Seamus?
Everything is more.
Every breath is sharper.
Every part of me is lit up like he’s flipped some hidden switch.
I used to think about him when I touched myself in the dark.
Sometimes I’d let myself come. Sometimes I’d stop at the edge, then fall asleep aching for him.
He’s pulled every string in me, tuned me to the brink of madness.
“Good girl,” he whispers reverently, like he’s promising something only I get to hear.
“There you go, baby. On your back. I want to taste you.”
“Seamus…” I’m already trembling, as he pinches the heat of my ass cheek, grounding me.
“What do you call me?” His tone is sharper now.
“Sir,” I choke out, my pulse hammering.
“Do you really plan on talking back to me just after I strapped you?”
I gulp and move to obey.
He moves with quiet purpose, going to the drawer. Metal cuffs gleamin his hands.
When he snaps them around my wrists, they click into place, my arms stretched above my head.
I’m held. I’m open. I’m his.
“Oh god…”
“Spread your legs.”
