Gemini’s finger is a slow tease over my covered slit, and the twisted need for him to continue to touch me—deeper,harder—just might be the thing that finally kills me. And the melodic tempo languidly wrapping itself around us only heightens the experience.
His finger hooks under my leotard, stretching the fabric and making the other side of the cutout dig into my thigh. A relieved moan escapes my lips at his exploratory touch.
My body trembles, and he hums with delight.
“Is this what you crave, love?” he says so casually, dragging the same finger through my arousal, never quite touching where I need him most. “A needy mess for one of the gods’ favorites?”
I still have a small shred of rational thought warning me not to answer his question. It’s a trick. It’s always a trick.
But the slow push of his finger inside my pussy has me crying out a chokedYesfollowed by a small sob of relief when he tugs my leotard fully to the side and adds a second finger.
I should be disgusted by how wet I sound when he begins to finger-fuck me with zeal, but somehow, it only fuels the shameful lust building inside of me. He’s transformed me into his doll, using and playing with me as he pleases while I stay locked in my pose. I’m so close to the abysmal edge, yet he’s hardly touched me.
That same sick and twisted part of me wishes I could watch him stroke his cock while his fingers pump into my pussy with the same cadence. I ache to see his expression. The wildness of complete abandon I know I’d find painted across his face.
I hear Gemini curse under his breath, and the sound has me squeezing hard around his fingers. My body begins to visibly shake, and I don’t know how much longer I have it in me to stay in position.
Gemini’s hand twists, his two fingers hooking over the most sensitive of spots inside while his thumb finally makes contact with my swollen clit. I hiccup around a pleasured sob, my mouth falling open.
“That’s it, pet. Let go,” Gemini coos darkly. “Give in to me.”
The force by which my orgasm crashes through my body shocks me, and it’s anything but gentle. It ravages me, wringing me dry. I buckle under my weight and let go of my raised leg, narrowly missing Gemini behind me. I lose my balance, but my captor quickly catches me.
Somehow, he’s managed to keep his fingers inside of me as he pulls my back into his chest. He continues to fuck me through my climax, which seems never-ending—a perverse desire that craves to keep me prisoner, that demands I yearn for Gemini like this.
It’s sick.
I’msick.
Yet the slow glide of Gemini’s fingers out of my core leaves me wanting—no, aching—for more.
“Remind me, Veil Vulturine,” he says near my ear, his hand now digging into the thick of my thigh, wet with my arousal. “How can you claim not to be mine?”
Repulsed, I yank his arms off me and swivel around to shove him in the chest.
“You must be mad to think that this meant anything,” I spit with so much bitterness that I feel it cover me, cold against my burning skin. “I had no choice.”
Stumbling back, he laughs like a psychopathic jester, unceremoniously shoving himself back into his jeans while glaring at me with hooded eyes. He clearly didn’t finish by how hard he still is, and I hate myself for even noticing. I’m half naked and feeling painfully vulnerable, but I try to save face and glare back, crossing my arms.
“Oh, but youdidhave a choice, pet.”
“Coercion isn’t achoice.”
He rolls his eyes, as if speaking of morality bores him. I expect him to throw me another retort, but his response surprises me.
“It will be of a boundless delight to watch you turn.” He takes a challenging step forward. “This isn’t you,” he says, his lips curling with disgust. “This — this,”—he waves his hand in the air in a lazy circle, as if looking for the right words—“fragile humanity. It’s becoming quite the nuisance.”
My stomach drops as a puzzling premonition sinks deep into my psyche, but I ignore it. I swallow hard and try to keep my body language as defiant as possible.
“I will never be like you,” I growl back.
My response only makes him smile wider.
“Naive little doll,” he drawls with so much condescension that I feel his words spill over the crown of my head like a cracked egg. “Your god would beg to differ.”
The urge to throw his point back in his face scalds my throat, but I’m suddenly exhausted. I will never win this demented debate as long as Gemini is alive. Or until he tires of me, which, at this rate, will be never.
“I’m going to change,” I say, defeated.
