Page 175 of Somno Slave

“You’re insatiable, Doctor.” He praises, though his voice is taunting.

I can’t help it, I feel myself bounce against him. Tears prick in my eyes as the pleasure mounts higher and higher. It feels so good, too fucking good, and I know that I’m about to cum for him again. And I fucking hate it.

I pant. “Please, Deogal.”

I tell myself it’s purely survival instinct, that I’m responding to a threat. Textbook definitions. But I don’t stop him. I don’t say no.

“Yes, I fucking love it when you say my name.” He groans. The rhythm of his thrust falters and then speeds up.

He’s close.

He plunges deep inside of me, and then I feel it. The heat. The pressure. His seed shooting deep inside of me. He roars. It’s the most delicious sound and my body shakes in response, like a creature submitting to it’s mate. I let him use me, pound mybody to get himself off. It spurts in waves, and it’s seamlessly never-ending.

I squeeze my eyes shut. My fingers curl into fists, legs shaking wildly as my own pleasure washes through me. He continues thrusting.

And that’s when I feel it—the hardening again.

“No!” I whimper. My head falls against the metal table and it’s hot from my frantic, panicked breath.

“Yes,” he whispers, nails dragging down my back. He leaves a biting trail of pain, and I’m certain blood prickles to the surface.

He pushes forward, right to the hilt, and I flinch in anticipation. Then he leers over me, the heat from his body mixing with mine. Something hot and wet meets my back.His tongue. He laps up the small beads of sweat, and groans. His restraint slips. His fingers curl angrier into my hips, his cock throbbing violently.

He turns me. I blink, and suddenly, I’m staring up at him.

For a moment, he doesn’t move.

Just looks at me.

His hands are braced either side of my body, caging me against the steel, but all the violence that lived in them a second ago has gone strangely still. His dark eyes search mine like he’s trying to memorise something, drinking in every inch with a focus so intense it makes me feel dizzy.

Something in his expression changes, but not in the way I expect. It isn’t hunger. It isn’t loss of control. If anything, it settles. Like he’s just realised something quietly amusing.

His thumb drags once across my hip, slow, absent.

“You said yes faster this time,” he murmurs.

The words don’t land properly. They don’tfit.

My brow pulls together before I can stop it. “This time?”

For a moment, he just looks at me, like he’s just realised something quietly pleasing. Then his mouth tilts slightly at the corner.

“Careful,” he says softly, voice edged with something that feels almost like amusement. “You’re starting to notice things you’re not supposed to.”

My palms turn damp. “What does that mean?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. He watches me instead, like he’s deciding how much I can handle before it stops being entertaining.

Then, almost lazily—“You learn quicker each time.”

The words slide under my skin.

Each time.

My pulse stumbles. “Each—what are you talking about?”

“Mm.” A quiet sound leaves him, thoughtful, almost pleased. “No. That’s enough of that.”