Conrad thrust deep with his cock while retreating with his fingers, then reversed it. Over and over. Again and again, until she felt as if she was suspended between the two, penetrated and conquered and never in her life so beautifully taken.
Seen and sampled and claimed.
She felt as if with every thrust, pussy and ass, he made her new.
His free hand was next to her head, and then his mouth was on hers again, his tongue a new torment, as irresistible as the rest.
And she was coming again before she knew she meant to, or could.
Because Conrad filled her, and kept filling her. Her ass, her pussy, her mouth. He took all of her, demanding everything and taking more.
Rory lost any sense of herself. She was only sensation. She was only need.
He’d called her a fuck toy, and now she understood how glorious that was. How freeing and beautiful.
To be a receptacle instead of a sphinx. To give so much that it became her own kind of taking, there in the magic of this. He was in control, but she took back control and made it...this.
Joy.
Again and again, over and over, too much sensation that spilled over into a hint oftoo much,and then became joy.
All that perfect friction and rhythm, and the marvelous things her body could do with both.
With him.
Once again, she lost track of the difference between coming and coming down, between ramping up and falling over.
And when he came again, lifetimes later, she thought they both exploded—bursting apart into the night, like stars.
This time, Rory was wrecked in a different way.
There was the same slow surfacing, returning to her own body instead of the one they made together.
She drank another glass of water. She ate a bit more of the food he gave her from his own hand, and this time, he didn’t lounge there like the Lord of the Manor. He didn’t ask her questions or talk to her about rules and expectations.
Maybe there was nothing to say after something so profound.
That great, beautiful darkness that was in them both now. Part of them forever.
Rory kind of thought she’d grown new bones here tonight, and his name was etched on them all.
Neither one of them spoke, there on that chaise in the last of a night that had already lasted forever. In the hot tub again, he held her close and they soaked together like that until she started to get sleepy.
And when Conrad picked her up and took her out of the tub, then toweled her dry, Rory knew she had no choice.
She had to leave, and now.
The old version of her, the one who’d showed up here tonight, would have stayed. But then, she wouldn’t have been as altered. The version of her who knew she could never go back to who she’d been knew that she had to take stock of...everything.
And she couldn’t possibly do that when Conrad was in front of her, stealing all the light from the sky.
Even in the middle of the night.
“Thank you,” she said, holding his gaze as he brought her into the house again. “You didn’t have to let me in tonight. I’ll never be able to thank you enough that you did.”
Conrad only stared down at her, as imposing naked as he was fully clothed.
And she couldn’t say anything else, because if she did, she feared that he would see far too much. When she knew that no matter what, she had to see herself first.