Page 97 of Somno Slave

My breath stutters, breaks, and something dangerously close to surrender edges in before I can stop it. The awareness of it, of how easily I’m being pulled under, only makes it worse.

“Don’t!” I finally find my voice. “Stop!”

“Don’t stop?” He teases, lips pressing against my bundle of nerves.

His lips find my sex again, and I scream in pleasure. His finger finds my tight hole. I clench up as if that could keep him out, but it doesn’t work. With a dark chuckle, he pushes it in slowly, all the way to the knuckle.

My mouth falls open, tears pricking in my eyes.

“God, Doctor.” He groans. “You’re so tight.”

His lips return to my clit. “And you taste so fucking good.”

He curls it without warning, and...

Oh, fuck.

I moan.

I shake.

I can’t stop myself—

Pleasure tears through me, and I can’t hold back any longer. I explode hard. My orgasm dominates me, and he doesn’t stop. Over and over, he forces the waves of ecstasy to burn through my shaking body. I bite my scream into my lower lip until the blood swarms around my mind.

“That’s a good girl.” He doesn’t stop. His mouth brushes me again, once, slow and deliberate, and my legs betray me. I tremble. Just as it crests into something unbearable, he eases back, not far, just enough to remind me he’s choosing this. Choosingwhen.

He pulls away without warning, and the shift is so sudden it disorients me, like the ground has dropped out fromunder something I was already struggling to stand on. There’s movement—fast, purposeful—the sharp sound of metal against leather, fabric dragged, discarded, the room changing around me before I can make sense of it.

My body is no longer where it was.

He drags me upward until my head tips back over the edge of the sofa, hanging, the rush immediate and disorienting as blood floods upward.

I try to correct it. I can’t.

My mouth parts on instinct, just to breathe, just to steady something, and his hand is there instantly, fingers pressing into my face.

A low sound leaves him—approval, amusement—and it sends a sharp, involuntary reaction through me that I hate immediately. Hate because I feel it. Hate because I can’t stop it.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice low, controlled. “Just like that.”

He steps forward, and that’s when I see it. His swollen penis, hanging like something deadly.

I respond immediately. It betrays me quietly at first—small shifts, shallow breaths, a tightening low in my stomach that shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t exist in this context, under this pressure, underhim.

But it does, and he knows it.

His hand tightens against my face. His fingers squeeze my cheeks, and I’m forced to open for him in a gasp. He presses the tip to my lips immediately. It’s thick, smooth. I try to resist, but the heat is too much. Just as I start to close my mouth, a voice burns in my mind.

“If you bite me, I promise you, I’ll rip your virginity from you.”

I freeze, fear strangling me.

I loosen just enough for him to force the tip past. My jaw snaps open wide, far too wide for comfort, and the ache burns immediately.

“That’s it, baby,” it touches my thoughts. “Hollow your cheeks. Yes, just like that.”

The fear is replaced by something else now. Need. Want. My thighs press together. He slips further into my mouth, brushing my teeth no matter how much I try to open wider. I do as I’m told, my cheeks hollow. His smoothness strokes the inside of my mouth, the heat of him making my mind swim. He tastes amazing. I hate that he does.