Page 40 of Iron Roses

Then there’s a presence. A body.

I blink, still dazed, eyes dragging to the side. She’s just there.

Giovanna.

Naked, pale, glistening like she’s always belonged in this tub. Her body reclines against the curved edge beside me, knees pulled up and parted wide. Water beads along the smooth lineof her thighs, trickles between the lips of her pussy—exposed, swollen, soaked.

She’s unreal.

Her nipples are peaked, her chest rising like she’s panting too. Her legs fall open farther, inviting, revealing.

Cassian isn’t near me anymore, he is with her

His head moves between her legs without hesitation, shoulders hunched, hands spreading her thighs wider as he licks her with the same hunger he devoured me. Like she’s just as real. Just as deserving of his mouth.

I freeze, water slick against my skin, cunt still throbbing from what he just did to me—but now my body responds all over again.

He licks her, tongue dragging flat and wide across her folds, up to her clit where he flicks and sucks with a filthy rhythm. Her hips shift under his mouth, soft and soundless, and I can hear the wet sounds of it—the obscene lap and slurp of his tongue working her open. The sound of her imagined moan echoes inside me.

My pussy clenches hard.

His jaw works, the muscles flexing under skin and water as he eats her like he’s starving—his mouth locked to her, tongue dipping inside, swirling, fucking. His hands grip her thighs hard enough to turn ghost-pale.

He moans into her.

My nipples tighten. My breath shortens again. I press my thighs together instinctively, but it does nothing to ease the heat, the pulsing need that’s already coiling again. Watching him—seeing his tongue slide up and circle her clit—makes me ache in ways I didn’t know I could still feel.

I’m panting now, trembling.

He licks her faster. His face is slick with water and phantom slick, chin glistening as he groans, tongue flattening against her again, relentless now, thrusting into her pussy and up to her clit with punishing strokes.

She doesn’t move. But I swear she’s breathing.

I swear I can feel her coming. And my body responds like it’s me.

I’m watching him pleasure—but I’m the one falling apart.

My thighs clench. My stomach knots. I gasp sharply, and my hips twitch forward like my body’s trying to crawl toward them, to be part of it again. I’m soaked with more than bathwater—my pussy throbs, aching, slick, desperate for his mouth again, or maybe hers.

His tongue flicks circles right over her clit.

And my orgasm builds in sympathy, a stolen climax rising in me like it’s wired through her.

My vision blurs.

And I come—hard—watching his tongue buried between her legs.

Then everything rips.

The water shatters into shards.

My spine seizes again—this time with agony. I scream, but it’s swallowed by wind.

I hit the ground.

Damp leaves scrape against my back. My limbs spasm, raw and disoriented. Bark bites into my shoulder. My knees buckle as I crawl forward, vomit rising in my throat, though nothing comes out.

I am in a forest

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