Page 24 of Hollowed

Black. Bottomless.

Still not hungry.

Still holy.

He reached up. Brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. Touched my lip where I’d bitten it.

“Sleep now,” he said.

Sleep.

Like I could rest while my body still pulsed with the echo of him.

Like I could close my eyes while his cum still dripped from me like ritual.

But I obeyed.

Because obedience wasn’t surrender anymore.

It was trust.

He cleaned me.

Again.

Without fanfare. Without heat.

A wet cloth. A reverent touch.

He didn’t tease. Didn’t trail fingers between my thighs to see if I ached. He already knew I did.

And that knowing was worse than the touch.

He laid me on the robe. Draped the blanket over my body.

Then he lay beside me.

Fully clothed.

His hands folded over his chest.

Close. Closer than I expected.

But not touching.

His thigh brushed mine once when I shifted.

I didn’t flinch.

I turned toward him.

“Can I ask?” I whispered.

He opened his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Why did you stay?”

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