Page 32 of The Contract

And another.

Warmth spreads like wildfire.

Wetness.

His touch.

His tongue.

Holy fuck.

I’m dangling over the cliff’s edge—knowing it will destroy me. Euphoric at the thought.

He licks along the sheer fabric of my panties, forcing his way in, lapping, pressing, circling, invading.

Right through the cloth.

And I don’t even recognize the sounds coming out of my mouth anymore. Just one frantic mess of “Please,” and moans and…

Zver. Zver. Zver…

Until I’m not even speaking.

I’m screaming.

His name.

Begging.

Crying out—Tears slip down my temples, salty and hot.

Because I’m surrendering in all the ways I swore I never would. Years of defenses—bricked and welded—falling apart like acid tearing through hardened steel.

And I—I can’t stop the tsunami rising to crash over me.

Somewhere between one whimper and the next, I stop feeling the fabric.

The barrier—whatever was left of it—vanishes.

It’s just his mouth.

My pussy.

Him.

Me.

A brutal, messy blur of me unraveling, sobbing, riding his face like I’ve lost my mind.

Until I come.

CHAPTER 8

Riley

“Wakey, wakey.”

For a second, I think I’m dreaming.

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