Page 138 of Intense
Chapter 46
STEPHANIE
My body hums. Completely overstimulated, wrung out, marked, and used in the most devastatingly perfect way.
My thighs are trembling, slick with blood and cum. My wrists ache where the restraints rubbed raw. My skin stings from every cut and bruise and bite. I can still feel him on me. In me.
But it’s the quiet afterward that unnerves me.
Not the silence of shame.
Not the stillness of regret.
No.
It’s him.
The way he holds me.
Like I’m something fragile. Like I didn’t just let him drag a scalpel across my skin and fuck me until I saw stars.
His chest is still rising fast, blood sticky between our bodies. But his arms are wrapped around me like he’s protecting me from something. Maybe him?
And I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs against my temple, brushing sweat-damp hair away from my face.
I try to say I’m fine, that I don’t need his tenderness now, but the words don’t come.
Instead, I nod. Just once. Barely a movement.
He shifts beneath me, gently easing away from me, and I wince.
“Sorry,” he breathes, like the sound of my pain hurts him more than it hurts me.
The cuts are starting to sting.
Then he’s gone. Just for a second. I hear the faucet run and the rustle of a drawer opening.
And then he’s back like a professional.
Dr. Finn Quinn, again.
He presses a warm, wet cloth between my thighs and begins to clean me thoroughly. I flinch at first, unsure whether I should stop him or thank him or crawl away and lock myself in a supply closet.
But he doesn’t let me move.
“Stay still,” he murmurs, dabbing gently at my inner thigh where a line of dried blood clings to a shallow cut. “You’re okay. You did so well for me.”
His eyes lock with mine.
“I’m proud of you.”
No one’s ever said that to me.
Not after.
Not with meaning.
