Page 151 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1
Gabe’s hands stroke lazy patterns along my spine as Hank refers to my first experience with anal penetration, his touches soothing the muscles still trembling from exertion.
“This is what happens when you trust us,” Gabe says, brushing sweat-damp hair from my forehead with unexpected tenderness. “When you surrender to us completely.”
Laughter bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, surprising even myself with its lightness after such intensity.
“Maybe you should string me up and deny me pleasure more often,” I say, my voice hoarse from crying out. “If this is what happens after.”
The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning beyond their surface. This room—Gabe’s sanctuary of pain and pleasure, with its carefully arranged implements and reinforced fixtures—intimidated me when he first opened the door. Now, my words are more than afterglow banter; they’re an invitation, a doorway opening to his darkest desires.
Gabe goes utterly still beneath me, his breathing suspended momentarily as though my words have physically impacted him.
When his eyes meet mine, they’ve transformed—something primal and hungry flashing across his features, a predator given permission to hunt. The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile but something more dangerous, more promising.
“Careful,” Gabe whispers, voice dropping to a register I’ve never heard before—something ancient and predatory that reverberates through my bones. “You don’t know what you’re offering, sweetheart.”
His fingers trail up my side, no longer the soothing caress of a lover but the calculating assessment of someone contemplating possession. His pupils have dilated until only a thin ring of color remains, like looking into an abyss.
I swallow hard, and the rawness in my throatreminds me of how completely I lost control. Something shifts inside me—fear and desire tangling into an emotion I have no name for.
“I do.” I let the words hang between us like a contract written in blood.
His expression transforms, something feral breaking through the civilized veneer he maintains for the world. His fingers suddenly tighten against my ribs, not enough to hurt but enough to remind me of the strength he carefully restrains.
“I’ll consume you,” he says, each word precise and measured despite the wildness in his eyes. “Piece by piece. Until there’s nothing left that isn’t mine.” His thumb brushes my lower lip, deceptively gentle. “Until you can’t remember where your boundaries were before I erased them.”
Hank watches this exchange with hooded eyes, his hunger awakening anew as Gabe’s darkness unfurls between us.
Chapter 42
The world returnsto me in fragments—the cool air against my overheated skin, the distant crash of waves through open windows, the pleasant ache radiating through muscles pushed beyond their limits. My legs tremble, unwilling to support my weight after being held in submission for so long. Hank’s arm slips around my waist, his strength becoming my foundation.
“Easy, luv,” he whispers, his breath warm against my temple.
His gentleness now is a stark contradiction to the man who dominated me minutes before—like watching a storm transform into a summer breeze. Gabe appears at my other side, his fingertips grazing my elbow with a tenderness that makes my throat tighten.
They guide me toward the adjoining bathroom where steam curls like phantom fingers from the oversized shower, fogging the mirror until our reflections become mere suggestions of forms. The heated tile beneath my bare feet sends a shiver up my spine, pleasure and pain indistinguishable after what we’ve shared.
“It’s our turn to take care of you.” Hank’s voice carries the same authority as when he commanded my pleasure but is softer at the edges. His calloused fingers work through tangled strands of myhair, each gentle tug a reminder of how roughly he’d gripped it earlier.
Gabe reaches to adjust the shower controls, muscles shifting beneath tanned skin as he tests the spray with his palm.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, more to himself than to us. The word hangs in the steamy air, an unintentional summary of the night.
They guide me under the spray—not leading, not pushing, but supporting as water cascades over us. My skin prickles with renewed sensitivity as droplets trace paths down my body like countless tiny fingers.
I stand suspended between them, Hank’s chest against my back, Gabe facing me, their bodies creating a sanctuary of flesh and warmth.
Gabe’s hands move, working soap into a lather across my collarbones, down the curve of my breasts, and across my stomach. He pays special attention to the places marked by his earlier passion—a reddened patch at my hip where his fingers dug in, the marks that remember the kiss of his crop.
His touches are an apology.
A reverence.
A promise.
“Close your eyes,” Hank instructs as his fingers work shampoo into my scalp.
I obey without thought, my body’s automatic response to his voice both thrilling and terrifying. The firm pressure of his fingertips draws a moan from deep in my chest, the sound echoing against the shower tiles.
