I want to plead for more.
To let go of the shame just so I could have the relief coiling tighter and tighter inside me.
I thrashed against it, tearing myself apart in a silent war.
No. No, no, no.
But he withdrew his finger to the tip, and before I could process the loss—
He slid back inside, this time with two more fingers stretching me open.
My eyes rolled back.
A raw, guttural sound scraped out of my throat.
He filled me, his fingertips caressing that swollen bundle of nerves inside me over and over while his teeth bit into my clit anew.
The dark side of me—
The one that needed—
The one that didn't care—
It won.
I watched helplessly as my body renewed its struggle, but not to escape.
To grind against him.
To take more.
To find the edge I knew he was holding just out of reach.
And he knew.
He knew, because instead of giving me the mercy of his tongue, he kept teasing—nipping, biting, never easing the pressure or letting me fall over the edge.
The frustration built until it was bigger than my shame, bigger than my fear.
I was so angry.
So desperately, humiliatingly angry—
Because he was denying me.
Because even now, even here, he was in control.
"Asshole!" I screamed, the word muffled but clear enough.
His smile was obvious in the way his mouth curved against my swollen flesh.
That was it.
I snapped.
Rage flooded me. I kicked my leg out as hard as I could, every muscle straining with the force of it.
He dodged—barely.
A feral growl tore from his chest, so deep it vibrated into me.
For a heartbeat, the sound made something primal in me freeze—
Because it didn't sound human.
It sounded exactly like the stories of monsters whispered in the dark.
Like the werewolves everyone said didn't exist.
No.
No, that's impossible.
But God help me, I wasn't so sure anymore.
Because this… this possessiveness.
This blinding, relentless you're mine threaded through every touch, every growl.
The way he moved over me—like my body was something he'd already claimed, and he was just reminding me of it.
That growl—low and feral and vibrating through my bones—didn't sound human.
The hunger in his eyes didn't look human.
The way he held me open, the way he watched my body betray me, the way he seemed to know exactly how to undo me—
It was too much.
It was everything.
And it was all wrong.
Ok, ok, backtrack.
My heart thundered in my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps against the tape.
You are in bed. You are tied up. You are being given pleasure you never asked for—by your husband's nephew.
You are the worst kind of fool.
A hysterical laugh tried to bubble up behind the tape.
Congratulations, Eloise. You've outdone yourself.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall.
Willing the dark, hungry part of me to crawl back into the pit where I'd locked it away.
But it wouldn't.
It wouldn't stop whispering that it felt good.
That no one had ever touched me like this.
That no one had ever looked at me like I was something worth taking.
And Dieu help me—
I didn't know which was worse.
That he was doing this.
Or that some part of me wanted him to keep going.
He shoved my knee back down with bruising force.
This time, the sound that tore from his chest wasn't desire.
It was anger.
The raw, dark kind that prickled over my skin like electricity.
And God help me—
Even if someone dragged me to a priest tomorrow, tied me to the altar, and threatened me with holy water, no fear of God would ever make me confess how fucking sexy that growl was.
Or how hard my pussy pulsed in response.
I'd never admit it. Not to them. Not to him.
Not even to myself.
His grip tightened around my thighs, punishing and unrelenting.
Tomorrow, there would be handprints. Bruises blooming across my skin, a vivid testament to tonight—marks to go with the shame already smattering my body like a disease.
"What did you learn, mon Eloise?" he taunted, his hot breath ghosting over my throbbing clit.
I growled, another tear slipping free, hot and furious as it disappeared into my hairline.
"Are you going to tell me to fuck off again?" he purred.
Then his tongue darted out, a single sharp lick—there and gone before I could even register the burst of heat it left behind.
I screamed into the dark, spitting muffled curses against the tape.
Apparently satisfied, he reached up—and ripped the tape from my mouth in one savage motion.
Pain exploded across my face, raw and stinging.
I gasped—and then kept screaming.
"You fucking psycho motherf—"
My voice broke as his teeth sank into my clit again, hard enough to turn my words into a ragged wail.
"Try again," he ordered calmly. "Are you going to tell me to fuck off again?"
I heaved, my breath coming in frantic bursts as I tried to keep my voice steady.
But how could I?
How could anyone?
I didn't even know what name to give the chaos inside me.
Rage.
Shame.
A need so big and ugly it felt like it might split my ribs apart.
I clenched my jaw.
"Probably," I spat out, my voice rough and shaking. "I'm your aunt. Your uncle's wife."
He laughed.
The sound was low and dark, like it belonged in some twisted gothic story—H.P. Lovecraft or something worse.
His teeth grazed me again, lighter this time, almost playful.
It made me shiver.
"Are you going to ignore that?," I snapped.
But he didn't even acknowledge my words.
Instead, he lowered his voice, smooth as silk.
"Do you understand," he murmured, "what's going to happen from now on when you do?"
I clamped my mouth shut.
I wouldn't answer.