Page 19 of His Dark Cravings

“That’s it. Just like that.”

He urges me on, his words fuel to my fire. I lift my hips, moving to the rhythm, desperate for more of that contact, that release.

His touch intensifies further, becoming more insistent, more demanding. I’m almost there, I can feel it rising, building up, each stroke more unbearable than the last.

And then, just as I reach the edge, he stops.

I whimper, my frustration a raw, agonizing knot in my belly. "Why?"

He chuckles again, a sound that is both cruel and alluring. "Because, sweetheart," he whispers, "you're not in control here. I am."

My body tightens, the frustration a coiled spring within me. "Please, Sir," I beg again, my voice a broken whisper.

He doesn't respond. His hands return to my breasts, kneading and squeezing, the sensation pulling me taut with craving. He slides his fingers along the curve of my ribcage, each brush of his skin sending small jolts of electricity through me. My hips move against the bench, an instinctive need for release, but he doesn’t grant it. He pinches my nipples, twisting them softly, and I moan, my body a riot of sensation.

"That's enough for now," he says. "We'll continue this later."

My chest rises, trying to draw in a deeper breath, but my lungs feel constricted, held captive by my unmet need. To my disappointment, he unfastens the cuffs, one by one. The removal of the restraints does nothing to alleviate my state. I sit up on the bench, my body still trembling, still wanting more, and tug the blindfold off.

He stands before me, and I feel the pull between gratitude and resentment.

“You may go,” he says.

My voice catches in the back of my throat as the words I know I'm expected to say spill out: "Thank you, Sir."

He smiles, a slow, predatory curve of his lips that sends a tremor through me. “You’re welcome, little dove.”

I rise, my movements unsteady, my legs weakened from the experience. I grab my clothes, fumbling with them, desperate to cover myself, to hide my reaction from his eyes. Though I know he already sees it—he planned it all.

I retreat from the dungeon, my body still humming with the echoes of his touch. The hallway seems to stretch, each step heavy as I seek the sanctuary of my room. But inside, there’s no peace, just an unrelenting need. I go through the motions of getting ready for bed, but when I climb into bed, sleep seems an unfathomable prospect.

And worse, without him even having to tell me, I know I'm not allowed to touch myself.

Chapter 7

Everly

Hours pass, the house silent around me, and I lie in bed, wide awake. I'm only thinking about Xavier, fighting to give myself the release he withheld from me. But for some reason, I want to know what will happen if I don't give in.

The only problem is it's driving me crazy.

With a sigh of frustration, I realize I can't keep still anymore. I leap out of bed, throw my silken robe over my shoulders, and leave my room, seeking water. The kitchen is cold when I get there. I open the fridge, the light spilling out, and grab the first bottle of water. I drink it all in long gulps. I open another. But the cool liquid does little to soothe me. My body still burns and aches, my nerves still raw. I rest my hands on the counter, my gaze blank as I stare into the empty space.

I’m startled by a sound, a soft rustle behind me. I turn, the water bottle still in my grip, and find Winter standing there. Her platinum bob seems sharper, catching the light from the open fridge, and her ice-blue eyes are assessing me, searching for something.

"You look troubled," she states, her tone flat but not unkind.

I shake my head, feeling exposed under her scrutiny. "Just thirsty.”

She doesn’t buy it. I can tell. She moves closer, so close I can smell the faint floral note of her perfume. “Sessions with Xavier… they leave a mark, don't they?”

My cheeks flush as I remember the ways his touch wrung a response from my body, the way I begged for more even when he withheld.

"I don't know what you mean."

Her lips curl into a small half-smile, a barely there curve. “Don’t pretend with me, Everly. We live under the same roof, share the same master. It’s pointless.”

Master.

---