Wait, no.
He’ll split me in two.
“Wh—whatever you want,” I whispered.
That time when Damien groaned, the sound went straight to my clit, causing a fresh wave of arousal to drip down my thighs.
“That’s my girl,” he praised, moving again. His hand touched my lower back, and I jolted, the restraints digging in. He chuckled. “Just grabbing something.”
“Mhm,” I squeaked, my muscles so tense, I thought they might crack my bones.
The edge of a drawer scraped against my thigh as it opened and closed, but I could tell Damien was being careful not to scratch me.
More sound, more movement, and more I couldn’t see before something cold dripped down my ass.
Oh my God.
He’s actually going to do it.
Practically hyperventilating, I clenched my cheeks together.
Damien didn’t say anything. He didn’t tell me to relax or go right for it. His fingers stroked lightly along my pussy, gathering the dripping lube as well as my own juices. He rubbed my outer lips. My thighs. My ass cheeks. My back.
He circled my clit but didn’t touch it. The tip of his finger teased my pussy but didn’t slide in.
When he finally trailed back up to my asshole, he pressed, but not enough to breach it.
Just enough to make me wish he would.
Minutes stretched, Damien expertly working my body until I was a boneless, undulating mess. I was about to beg for an end to my suffering, but then his thick finger slid into my pussy, curving to hit that spot he knew drove me wild.
When his other finger pushed against my asshole, I didn’t tense up or fight it. I used the infinitesimal amount of leeway I had to tilt my ass, trying to get more.
Wantingmore.
Damien worked each hole, alternating which was filled. After my body adjusted, the burn of pain receding to leave a pleasurable pressure, he switched his rhythm. Both fingers filled me at once.
Stretched me at once.
It was too much.
But not enough.
“Rub my clit,” I gasped.
“Only got two hands, angel,” Damien growled, not missing a beat in his torture.
“Then move one to rub my clit.”
“Which do you want me to take away?”
That’s an impossible choice. Grow a third one.
Remembering I had two very capable, though inaccessible, hands, I said, “Untie me.”
“Not happening.” His movements stopped with his fingers barely in me, and I nearly sobbed. “Who controls this, Eden?”
“You, Professor Caine.”