Page 41 of Writhe
“Slowly, Theo,” the Doctor murmurs, his voice silk-wrapped steel. “Let her come apart properly.”
Theo makes a sound of frustration but obeys, his touch shifting from reckless to calculated. Now he’s tracing patterns over my skin, studying how I react, how I twitch beneath him like some fucking wind-up toy. A sharp nip in my hip makes me jump.
I gasp.
His mouth follows, his tongue sweeping downward with a sinful certainty that has my stomach flipping.
A breath escapes before I can stop it.
“Yeah.” Theo chuckles. “She’s ready for it.”
I jerk when his mouth descends, heat and hunger dragging over my inner thigh. My stomach clenches. I hate the way my body betrays me. I hate that I’m already trembling.
“Relax, pet,” the Doctor soothes from somewhere beside me, and it’s almost funny. As if my body is supposed to go boneless under their hands, as if this is something I should want. And then Theo bites. Hard.
“Oh, she liked that.” Theo’s breath is warm against my skin, his tone smug, delighted. “I can feel her shaking.”
I grit my teeth, refuse to answer.
But he’s already tilting his head, already pressing his lips right there. His tongue flicking out, teasing exactly where I don’t want him to.
A broken sound leaves me. A sound I hate.
“Oh, that was pretty.” Theo sounds far too pleased with himself. “Think I wanna hear more.”
And then, he devours me. His mouth is a crime scene. A massacre of pride and resistance. He licks, sucks, fucks me open with his tongue, his hands tightening on my thighs when I try to twist away. I thrash, uselessly. The cuffs bite into my wrists.
I’m drowning.
“Such a pretty little thing,” Theo murmurs, voice thick with sin. “Gonna, make you come on my tongue.”
I shake my head. No.No.
“You should thank him, Eliza.” The Doctor’s voice slithers through my haze, amusement laced with control. “Thank him for making you feel good.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip.Fuck. Off.
“Say it.”
I turn my face away, my chest rising and falling in ragged pants. A sharp slap lands against my inner thigh. Pain flares, quick and bright, chased by the slow bloom of heat. I yelp, jerking against the restraints. Theo only chuckles. “C’mon, don’t fight it, dollface. You know you love being played with.”
The Doctor tsks, a sound full of mock disappointment. “Still so stubborn,” he muses. “Perhaps she needs more . . . encouragement.”
A shudder tears through me.
Then . . .
Metal against metal. A drawer opening. A selection being made. Something chosen just for me. “I think this will do.”
The mattress dips beside me. “Theo, lift her hips.” Theo obeys instantly, his grip sliding under my waist, dragging me up, spreading me open. The Doctor’s hand presses against my lower stomach. “This will make it impossible for you to keep your composure, little doll.”
A slick, cool sensation nudges against me. Realization slams into me a second too late—the vibrator. A gasp rips from me, but the Doctor is already pressing it inside, slow but relentless.
Then . . .
There’s a low, insidious hum. I gasp and Theo’s hands tighten on my thighs. “That’s it,” he croons, grinning against my hip. “Already making such sweet little sounds.”
The Doctor’s fingers press the toy deeper, hitting the perfect spot with surgical precision. My vision blurs. “There we go,” the Doctor murmurs, satisfaction thick in his tone. “Feel how your body reacts. How easily do you fall into it.”
