Blake POV
The sight of her in my lap, bound and filled and utterly surrendered, should have been enough. For a moment, it was. That moment passed.
The fever is a living thing, coiling in my gut, burning in my blood. It’s more than the rut now. It’s her. The scent of her satisfaction, the feel of her soft body going pliant against mine, the bond humming with her drowsy, sated pleasure—it’s a drug. And I am an addict with no intention of seeking a cure.
I move my hips one last time, a slow, deep grind that makes her muffled whimper vibrate against the silk in her mouth. The sound goes straight to my c**k, which is already hard, already aching, already desperate for more than this gentle, possessive rocking.
She doesn’t know if she can take more. I feel the faint tremor of oversensitivity
