In her hands a captive's practiced touch
# Tease ## Prelude The scent of coconut oil hung in the warm, still air of the bedroom, a heavy sweetness that coated every breath. A single lamp cast a low, amber glow, pooling light onto the portable massage table set in the center of t
Chapter 1
The scent of coconut oil hung in the warm, still air of the bedroom, a heavy sweetness that coated every breath. A single lamp cast a low, amber glow, pooling light onto the portable massage table set in the center of the room. The brown sheets were crisp and taut over the vinyl, a stark stage.
Maya lay on her stomach, the curve of her spine a gentle slope down to the swell of her hips, her skin gleaming under Jamie’s slick, practiced hands. She was a study in relaxed power, her short brown hair fanning against the sheet, her body a soft, inviting landscape he was permitted to map. But the permission was laced with a razor’s edge.
Jamie worked in silence, his own nudity a constant, humming awareness. The delicate, pink plastic cage that encased him felt less like an object and more like a state of being—a cool, unyielding truth pressed against his skin. Each press of his palms into the firm muscle of Maya’s shoulders, each slide down the dip of her waist, sent a quiet, desperate throb through the constricted flesh. He was a vessel slowly filling with a pressure that had no release.
“Mmm, right there,” Maya murmured, her voice a lazy purr that didn’t match the glint in her brown eyes when she tilted her head to glance back at him. “You’re so good at this, baby. All that practice servicing me seems to be paying off, and from the look of how tight that cute little cock is in that cage, you seem to be enjoying yourself.”
His hands stuttered for a fraction of a second. The words, delivered in that saccharine, mocking tone, was a lit match dropped into gasoline. He felt a familiar, hot trickle, a bead of pre-cum escaping the narrow slit of the cage to trace a damp, shameful path down his balls and inner thigh. He was already leaking, and she hadn’t even done anything.
“Oh, look at that,” she cooed, rolling onto her back with a fluid, deliberate motion. The sheets rustled. Her gaze, bright and intensely playful, dropped from his face, down his torso, to the evidence of his arousal. A slow, wicked smile spread on her lips. “Is my massage getting you all excited? Is my sweet, attentive husband getting worked up just from touching his wife?”
She sat up, the sheets pooling in her lap. Her eyes, holding his, were full of a bratty, challenging delight. This was her game, her creative energy turned into a relentless engine of taunts. She reached out, not to touch him intimately, but to run a single, cool fingertip through the dampness on his thigh, then held it up for him to see, glistening in the low light.
“Such a tiny, adorable little thing,” she sighed, the mock sympathy dripping from every word. “All locked up and so, so desperate. It’s just the cutest. I bet it aches so bad. Does that little nub ache for something it can never have?”
Her words were a psychological push, a “you wanted this” made manifest. She saw the want in his stillness, the way his green eyes darkened, and she fed on it, her own energy spiking. She leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was anything but kind.
“You’re covered in your own mess and I haven’t even touched you yet. What does that make you?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The raw, electric tension in the room was his reply, a silent scream of yes. The atmosphere was extreme, a raw nerve exposed. The simmering beneath the surface was now a rolling boil, and Maya, with her sarcastic sweetness and bratty fire, was only just starting to turn up the heat.
Chapter 2
Maya’s fingertip, slick with his own precum, traced a cold, deliberate line up the tense line of Jamie’s abdomen. Her eyes never left his. “What does it make you?” she repeated, her whisper now a blade of sugar-coated steel. “A leaky little thing. A little mess. My mess.”
Her other hand snaked out, fingers tangling brutally in the hair at his scalp. She yanked his head down, forcing his gaze to follow hers as she looked pointedly at the pink cage. “Look at it. Just cute little dick all locked up in a plastic nub. And it’s *dripping* for me."
Jamie’s breath hitched, a ragged sound in the quiet room. The sharp pull on his hair sent a jolt of pure submission straight to his core, his trapped cock twitching uselessly against its confines. “Yes,” he managed, the word a hoarse surrender.
“Yes, what?” she sang, her grip tightening.
“Yes, I’m a mess.”
“Good.” She released his hair only to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to his balls. The impact was a bright flash of pain that melted instantly into a deep, throbbing heat. He groaned, his knees buckling slightly.
“Oh, don’t you dare fall,” she chided, her voice dripping with false concern. She steadied him with a hand on his chest, her nails digging in just enough to promise marks. “You’re going to stand there and take your teasing like a good little slut. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be my desperate, caged little whore?”
Her fingers found his nipples, pinching the tight buds between her nails and twisting hard. A gasp tore from his lips, his whole body bowing into the cruel sensation. The dual assault—the degrading words, the sharp pain on his chest, the dull ache between his legs—wired him into a single live nerve of agonized arousal. Another hot bead of fluid escaped the cage’s tip, joining the shameful dampness on his thighs.
“There it goes again,” Maya laughed, a bright, bratty sound. “You can’t control it at all, can you? It’s just a faucet I turned on.” She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. “I could make you stand here all night, slapping your balls, twisting your nipples, and you’d just keep leaking for me. You’d drown in it. And you’d love every second, wouldn’t you?”
He couldn’t speak. He could only nod, a frantic, jerky motion, his green eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears of overwhelming sensation.
“I know you would,” she purred, delivering another swift, open-handed smack to his scrotum. The sound was crisp in the stillness. “Because you’re mine. This?” She flicked the plastic cage with a fingernail, making it vibrate against his hypersensitive flesh. “This is just a reminder. The real fun hasn’t even started.”
Chapter 3
“The real fun,” Maya repeated, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. She trailed her damp finger down his stomach again, circling the base of the plastic cage. “You’re so desperate, I can smell it on you, and it’s fucking adorable.”
She stepped back, her eyes raking over his trembling form. “On your knees. Now.”
Jamie sank to the floorboards, the cool wood a shock against his overheated skin. He looked up at her, his green eyes wide, his breath shallow.
Maya stood over him, a goddess of bratty cruelty. She placed a bare foot on his chest and pushed, not hard enough to topple him, but with enough pressure to assert her dominance. “Look at you. My little kneeling mess. You’re nothing but a leaky, caged toy.” She leaned down, her face inches from his. “Tell me what you are.”
“Your toy,” he gasped, the words ripped from him.
“Louder. And mean it.”
“I’m your fucking toy!” The vulgarity, so raw in the quiet room, sent another hot pulse of shame and arousal through his trapped cock. A fresh, clear droplet beaded at the tip.
“Good boy.” She removed her foot and knelt before him, her knees bracketing his thighs. Her hands came up to frame his face, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones with a tenderness that was a lie. “Now, you’re going to watch.” Her voice was sweet syrup. “You’re going to watch me get myself off, and you’re going to beg me to let you taste it. And you won’t get to. Not yet.”
She laid back on the brown sheets, spreading her legs. Her own arousal was evident, a slick glisten in the lamplight. She let out a soft, theatrical sigh as her fingers found her clit, circling it with a lazy, knowing precision. Her eyes stayed locked on his, a bratty, challenging fire burning in their brown depths. “See what you can’t have? See how wet I am, and you’re just a sad little nub in a cage?”
Jamie whimpered, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The sight of her touching herself, combined with her merciless commentary, was an exquisite torture. He was so hard it was a constant, dull ache, a pressure with no outlet.
“Please,” he begged, the word a ragged prayer.
“Please what?” she taunted, her fingers dipping inside herself, then pulling out to show him the glistening evidence.
“Please, let me taste you. Let me lick your fingers. Anything.”
She brought her wet fingers to her mouth, sucking them slowly, her eyes fluttering shut in a fake, exaggerated show of pleasure. “Mmm. So good. You’d love it, wouldn’t you? You’d suck my clit until your jaw locked, just for a chance. But you don’t get that. You get to kneel there and leak all over my floor like the little bitch you are.”
She resumed touching herself, her movements becoming more purposeful, her breath hitching. “You’re going to watch me come, and you’re going to stay right there in your little cage. And when I’m done, I’m going to wipe my hand on your face. That’s all you get. My leftovers.”
Jamie watched, mesmerized and utterly ruined, as her hips began to cant upward, chasing her own fingers. The room filled with the soft, wet sounds of her pleasure and her sharp, panting breaths. He was covered in his own slick precum, throbbing with a need so intense it bordered on pain, forced to witness the pleasure he was forbidden to join. The denial was absolute, the tease complete, leaving him stranded on a peak of desperate, unresolved arousal.
Chapter 4
Her back arched off the sheet, a silent, taut bow, and then Maya shattered. A raw, guttural cry tore from her throat as her climax rolled through her, her body shuddering, her fingers pressing hard into her own slick flesh until the last tremor faded. She lay there, panting, a sheen of sweat on her skin, a triumphant, bratty smile slowly returning to her lips.
Her eyes, dark and glazed with satisfaction, found Jamie’s. He was a wreck on his knees, covered in his own shiny precum, his breathing ragged, his entire being focused on her.
“See?” she whispered, her voice hoarse and sweetly mocking. “That’s what you don’t get to give me.”
She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the table. She held up her right hand, her fingers glistening, coated in her own wetness. The scent of her, musky and intimate, filled the space between them.
“Come here, my leaky little thing,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.
Jamie shuffled forward on his knees, the movement awkward, the plastic cage a constant, humiliating pressure. She placed her damp hand on his cheek, a possessive, wet slap that wasn’t quite gentle.
“Now,” she said, her voice dropping to a vicious purr. “You’re going to lick me clean. Every last drop. You’re going to taste exactly what that pathetic pink nub of yours will never, ever be inside of.”
She pushed her fingers against his lips. “Open.”
He obeyed, his mouth opening, and she slid two fingers inside, pressing them flat against his tongue. The taste exploded in his mouth—salty, tangy, profoundly her. It was the flavor of her pleasure, the very essence of what he was locked away from.
“Suck,” she commanded, watching his face with intense, playful cruelty. “Get it all. Swallow it. That’s your dinner, you desperate bitch.”
He closed his lips around her fingers, sucking obediently, his tongue working to clean every groove. The act was profoundly degrading and unbearably erotic. He was consuming the proof of her climax while his own cock ached, useless and confined.
“Mmm, look at you,” she cooed, twisting her fingers slightly in his mouth. “You love it, don’t you? You love being my little cleanup slut, licking my come off my hand because your cute little dick is too tiny and too locked up to put it there yourself. Does it taste good, baby? Does it taste better than any relief you’ll ever feel?”
He moaned around her fingers, a sound of pure, tortured assent. His own arousal was a fire in his veins, his trapped erection throbbing in time with his heartbeat.
She pulled her fingers out with a soft pop, inspecting them. “Almost. But not quite.” She spread her legs wider, the evidence of her orgasm still slick on her inner thighs. “Finish the job. Lick me clean. Right from the source.”
She fisted a hand in his short hair, yanking him forward, forcing his face between her legs. “Now. And don’t you dare even think about stopping until I say you’re done.”
Chapter 5
Her taste was still on his tongue when her grip in his hair tightened, yanking him back. “You think that’s enough?” Maya’s voice was a bratty, breathless challenge. She slid off the table, her movements fluid and predatory. “On the bed. On your back. Now.”
Jamie scrambled to obey, his body a live wire of desperate anticipation. He fell back onto the mattress, the sheets cool against his overheated skin. Before he could even settle, she was on him.
Her knees pinned his hips, her weight deliciously solid. Her hands, slick from her own wetness, clamped around his wrists with surprising strength, slamming them into the pillow above his head. She leaned over him, her short brown hair a messy curtain framing her face, her brown eyes blazing with intense, playful fire.
“You’re so pathetic,” she whispered, her voice a sweet, venomous drip. She began to move, rocking her hips, grinding her soaked, hot pussy against the hard, unyielding plastic of his cage. The friction was a maddening echo of what could be, her wetness smearing across the pink surface and his trapped, throbbing flesh. “This is all you get. This stupid little nub. You feel that? That’s my cunt, Jamie. It’s so fucking wet for you, and you can’t do a goddamn thing about it.”
She increased her pace, riding the cage hard, her breath coming in sharp pants against his ear. One of her hands released his wrist and snaked up to circle his throat. Her thumb pressed lightly, just enough to constrict, to claim. The pressure was a dizzying counterpoint to the frantic grinding below.
“You’ll never feel me,” she hissed, her lips brushing his skin with each filthy word. “You’ll never know what it’s like to be inside this. You’re just a plastic toy for me to rub on until I’m satisfied. Your cute little dick is useless. It’s just a leaky ornament. Does it ache, baby? Does it ache knowing my pussy is right here and you’re nothing but a bump in a cage?”
“Yes,” he choked out, the word strained against her gentle, dominant pressure. His entire world had narrowed to the heat of her grinding, the light sting at his throat, and the brutal poetry of her degradation. Pre-cum flowed freely now, a hot, constant seep that made a sticky mess between them.
“Good,” she purred, riding him with a relentless, taunting rhythm. “You remember that. You remember this feeling. This is your purpose. To be my little fuck-toy who can’t even fuck. To get so hard you hurt, and to stay right there, trapped, while I use you.” She leaned down, her voice dropping to a vicious, intimate whisper. “I could get off like this. I could come all over this plastic cage and you’d just have to lie there and take it, wouldn’t you? My desperate, caged little bitch.”
He could only groan, his body arching up into hers, seeking more of the impossible, torturous contact. The denial was absolute, the tease woven into the very fabric of the act, leaving him strung taut on a wire of excruciating, unresolved need.
Chapter 6
Her bratty taunts hung in the air like smoke. With a final, hard grind that made Jamie’s caged flesh scream, Maya pushed herself off him, leaving a wet, cooling stripe on the plastic. She stood beside the bed, looking down at his wrecked form, his chest heaving, his body a canvas of her dominance.
“You’re a mess,” she said, her voice dripping with saccharine mock-concern. She reached down, her fingers tracing the sticky trail of his pre-cum that painted his stomach. “Just leaking everywhere. Like a broken little faucet."
She brought her wet fingers to his lips. “Clean it up.”
He obeyed without hesitation, his tongue lapping at the salty-sweet evidence of his own desperate arousal. The humiliation was a fire in his gut, hotter than the ache between his legs.
“Good boy,” she purred, then her expression shifted, her brown eyes gleaming with a new, creative cruelty. “But you’re still too tense. I think you need to… relax. On your hands and knees. Now.”
Jamie rolled over, the movement clumsy with want. He got into position, his head hanging low. He felt her weight dip the mattress behind him, then her cool hands were on his ass, spreading him open. He gasped.
“Shhh,” she whispered, a single finger tracing a slow, teasing circle around his hole. “You like this, don’t you? Being handled. Being exposed.” Her voice turned bratty, sing-song. “My big, strong husband, on all fours, presenting his cute little ass for me. Because you know what comes next, don’t you?”
He couldn’t speak. He could only brace himself.
The first slap landed with a sharp, stinging crack that echoed in the quiet room. Jamie jolted forward, a grunt torn from his throat.
“That’s one,” Maya said brightly. “For being so pathetic and leaky.” Another slap, harder, on the opposite cheek. The heat bloomed across his skin. “That’s two. For having a cock so tiny it needs a cage.”
She began a steady, rhythmic assault, each smack punctuated by her verbal filth. “Three. For wanting it. Four. For needing it. Five. For being my desperate, caged little bitch.” Her hand was relentless, turning his skin a furious, warm pink. The pain was a brilliant, clarifying counterpoint to the throbbing denial in his cage, each strike somehow stoking the fire lower down.
She leaned over his back, her breath hot on his ear, her free hand snaking around to cruelly pinch and twist his nipple. He cried out, arching into the dual sensations of sting and sharp pleasure-pain. “You love this,” she hissed, her voice raw and intense. “You love when I spank you. When I own you. Your body is mine to mark, to use, to tease until you’re fucking insane with it. Say it.”
“Y-yours,” he choked out, the word barely audible.
“Louder.”
“It’s yours! All of it!” The declaration was torn from him, a surrender that felt like victory.
Maya released his nipple, giving his reddened ass one final, approving pat. “Damn right it is.” She shifted, and he felt the blunt, cool pressure of the lube bottle before a slick drizzle traced down his cleft. Her finger, now wet and insistent, pressed against his entrance, not entering, just applying that impossible, tantalizing pressure. “And this is mine, too. Every part of you. Locked up, laid out, and begging for it.”
Chapter 7
Her slick finger pressed forward, an insistent, impossible promise. Jamie’s entire body went taut, a strangled groan ripping from his throat. “Please,” he gasped, the word muffled by the sheet.
“Please what?” Maya’s voice was a bratty, singsong taunt right behind his ear. Her finger didn’t enter, just held that maddening, stretching pressure. “You want my finger in your pretty little ass, don’t you? While your pathetic cock weeps in its cage? You want to be fucked open because it’s the only part of you I can really use.”
“Yes! God, yes, Maya, please…”
“Since you asked so nicely.” With a cruel, sudden push, her finger breached him, sinking to the knuckle. Jamie cried out, his back arching violently. The stretch was sharp, a brilliant invasion that made his caged flesh jerk and throb against the vinyl sheets, another hot dribble of pre-cum escaping the slit.
“Oh, you’re so tight,” she moaned, a mockery of a porn star’s ecstasy. She began to move, a slow, deliberate piston. “And so fucking empty. Is this what you need? To be filled somewhere, *anywhere*, since your little dick is useless?”
He could only nod, desperate whimpers escaping with each thrust. She added a second finger, the burn making his vision swim. Her free hand tangled in his short hair, yanking his head back. “Look at yourself,” she hissed, forcing his gaze down his own body, to where the pink plastic cage was slick and glistening. “Look at that mess. You’re getting fucked in the ass and you’re still leaking like a broken toy.”
“I’m yours,” he choked out, the submission complete, absolute.
“Damn right you are.” She scissored her fingers inside him, hitting a spot that made his legs tremble. “And I think you need more. I think my good boy needs to really feel it.” She withdrew her fingers, the sudden emptiness a worse torture. He heard the click of the lube cap again, the wet, slick sounds of her coating something thicker, more substantial.
The blunt, smooth head of a dildo pressed against him. It was cool, unyielding. “This is going to fill you up so much better than your tiny cock could ever fill me,” she whispered, her voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness. “Ready?”
He wasn’t. He was perfectly, utterly ready. He braced, his knuckles white on the sheets.
She pushed it in, not with a sudden slam, but with a relentless, gradual pressure that stole his breath. It was thick, stretching him full. A broken moan tore from his chest as she seated it fully inside him, the base resting against his aching cheeks.
“There,” she purred, giving his ass a sharp, stinging slap that jolted the toy inside him. He gasped. “All plugged up. Now…” She reached around his hip, her fingers finding the small control panel. “Let’s see how long you can take being my little slut.”
A low powerful motor hummed to life. Motion erupted inside him, it was immediate, and deep, pulling out and then pushing back in. The intense, pervasive fucking traveled through him, lighting up every nerve ending, reverberating straight into his trapped, screaming cock.
“Oh, fuck!” he shouted, his body convulsing.
“No, no fucking for you, just getting fucked” she laughed, slapping his ass again, the impact mingling with the internal tremors. “Just this. Just you, on your knees, getting fucked by a machine because your own dick is too pathetic to fuck me. How does it feel? Tell me.”
“It’s… it’s soo much,” he begged, his hips rocking involuntarily against the pounding toy, seeking friction and fullness.
“It’s exactly what you deserve,” she said, her tone shifting to one of intense, playful ownership. She climbed onto the bed in front of him, settling on her knees, her own wetness gleaming in the low light. She took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “You watch me. You watch my face while that thing inside you makes you crazy. And you don’t come. You don’t get to come. You just take it.”
The machine cycled up a level, the ponding more urgent, harder deeper. Jamie’s world narrowed to the sensation of being electrically split open from the inside and the devastating sight of Maya’s triumphant, beautiful face. He was balanced on a razor’s edge, every muscle coiled, a live wire of denied climax, utterly at her mercy.
Chapter 8
The relentless pounding inside him was a living thing, a deep, vibrating fist that gripped his core with every inward stroke. Jamie’s body was a live wire, every muscle trembling with the effort to hold still, to obey her command not to come. Sweat beaded on his back and dripped from his temples, his breath coming in ragged, broken pants.
“Look at your face,” Maya cooed, her thumbs stroking his cheeks as she held his gaze. Her own arousal was a potent scent in the air, mixing with the coconut oil and his sweat. “You’re so gone. That little brain is just full of static, isn’t it? Nothing but the feeling of that toy wrecking your pretty little ass.”
“T-Maya,” he choked out, his eyes wide and pleading.
“What, baby? Use your words.” She leaned in, her breath hot against his lips. “Tell me what’s happening in that empty head.”
“I can’t… I can’t think,” he gasped as the machine cycled up again, the thrusts becoming shorter, harder, more focused. A strangled cry was punched out of him. “It’s too much. It’s… I’m gonna…”
“You’re gonna what?” she demanded, her voice sharp, a bratty challenge. She released his face and her hand shot down, her fingers wrapping around the pink plastic of his cage. She squeezed, hard. The pressure was a bright, shocking counterpoint to the deep internal rhythm. “You’re gonna come? In your cute little cage? You think you get to do that?”
“No! No, I don’t,” he whined, his hips bucking helplessly between the invasion and her punishing grip.
“Damn right you don’t.” She gave the cage a vicious smack, making him yelp. “You’re just my hole. A warm, tight hole for my toy to fuck. That’s all this is.” She punctuated her words with another sharp slap to his ass, the sound cracking through the room. “Your cock is decoration. A leaky, pathetic ornament. It doesn’t get to decide anything.”
She shifted her position, swinging one leg over so she was straddling his head, her wet, hot pussy grinding against his mouth. She began to move against him, a slow, deliberate roll of her hips, her eyes locked on his, watching him unravel.
“I’m going to come, Jamie,” she whispered, her voice dropping to a raw, hungry rasp. “I’m going to ride your tounge and come all over it. And you’re going to feel it. You’re going to feel me get mine while you just take it. You just take this fucking and you watch me.”
Her rhythm against his face quickened, becoming urgent. Her breathing hitched, her bratty smirk dissolving into a mask of fierce, concentrated pleasure. The machine inside him hammered away, a brutal metronome counting down his sanity. He was suspended in a torturous paradox, filled and empty, used and denied, as he watched his wife chase her climax on his body. The pressure in his cage was a white-hot sphere of agony, screaming for a release that was continents away. He could only watch, and take it, balanced on a blade’s edge where every second was an eternity of desperate, shimmering heat.
Chapter 9
Her climax hit like a tremor, a sudden, clenching heat that pulsed against his lips. A guttural cry tore from Maya’s throat, sharp and raw, as she ground herself against his face, smearing her release over his mouth, his nose, his chin. The rhythm of the toy inside him didn’t falter; it hammered away, a brutal piston keeping him suspended on a precipice of pure, screaming sensation.
When the last shudder passed through her, she collapsed forward, her hands braced on his sweat-slick chest. She was panting, a wild, triumphant light in her brown eyes as she looked down at him. He was a wreck—his body trembling, his face glistening with her, his caged cock a throbbing, purple ache against his stomach.
“Oh, fuck, baby,” she breathed, her voice husky and spent but still threaded with that bratty energy. “You took that so well. My good little hole.” She reached down and wrapped her fingers around the base of the toy’s shaft, still buried deep inside him. She gave it a slow, torturous half-turn. Jamie’s back arched off the table with a choked scream, his hands flying to grip the edges.
“Please,” he sobbed, the word barely intelligible. “Maya, please, I can’t… it’s gonna break me.”
“Break you?” she laughed, the sound bright and cruel. She began to withdraw the toy, an excruciatingly slow drag that made every nerve in his body shriek. “You’re not broken. You’re just… perfectly used.” With a final, slick pop, it was out. The sudden, hollow emptiness was almost as agonizing as the fullness had been.
She held the glistening toy up before his bleary eyes. “Look at that. You’re so open for me now. So loose and ready.” She tossed it aside with a clatter and swung her leg back over, settling her weight onto his hips. Her wet, hot pussy settled directly over his caged cock, the plastic pressing into her softness. She began to rock, a slow, grinding torture.
“You feel that?” she whispered, leaning close, her lips brushing his ear. “That’s where you live now. Right here, under me. Aching. Needing.” She punctuated each word with a roll of her hips. “Your pathetic little dick is so hard it’s shaking. It wants to be in me so bad it hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” he whimpered, tears of frustration mixing with the sweat on his temples. “God, yes, it hurts so much.”
“I know it does,” she cooed, her tone mock-sympathetic. She grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. “And it’s going to keep hurting. Because you’re not coming. Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow.” She leaned in, her breath hot. “You’re just going to stay right here, on this edge, forever. My desperate, leaking, caged husband. Say it.”
The pressure was a white-hot star set to supernova. He was nothing but need, a vessel of pure, denied fire. He met her intense, challenging gaze, his green eyes wide with surrender. “I’m yours,” he rasped, the words a sacred vow in the raw, electric air. “Your desperate thing. Forever.”