43. Caught In The Night

CHAPTER 43

Caught In The Night

ILEANA

I can’t think straight with his hands on me, with the weight of him pressing me into the mattress like he’s claiming me in every way that matters. His smile flashes in the moonlight, a wicked curve that makes my breath catch.

“How about an easier question, then. Are you wet right now?”

He already knows the answer to that. His fingers are tracing circles around my clit. But he wants me to say it, admit it. He’s waiting for me to say it, to admit what he’s already felt. The word sticks in my throat, shame and need warring in a battle I can’t win. His laugh is quiet, dark, curling around me like smoke, and then his fingers retreat.

A new sensation takes their place. The hot, wet stroke of his tongue, slow and thorough, dragging over my clit. My back arches, the movement tearing a gasp from my lips.

“You’re so starved of human touch that just this is enough to send you over the edge.” He laps at me again, drawing a strangled moan from me. I freeze, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

His laugh is wicked. “Careful, Ileana. Daddy might hear you.” He pauses, letting his teeth scrape along the tender skin of my thigh. “How will you explain him walking in to me eating your pussy?”

A shock of heat fills my cheeks. My fingers curl into the sheets, anchoring me to something solid as his tongue returns, stroking and teasing. The pressure of his mouth, and the light flick of his tongue sends bolts of electricity through me, setting every nerve alight.

“You’re mine.” His voice is low, a growl that feels like it’s etched into my skin. His head turns and he bites down hard on my inner thigh. I cry out softly, muffling the sound with the back of my hand. He sucks against my skin, marking me again.

“ These are mine.” One hand reaches up to pinch and twist each nipple. “And this is mine.” His tongue strokes over my clit again, then pushes inside me. “Mine to do whatever I want with. Mine to look at. Mine to touch. Mine to taste. Mine to own.”

Fingers push inside me, and I can’t stop my legs from falling open, offering him everything I have. He works my body slowly, each stroke coaxing a broken sound from my throat. But it's not enough for him. His fingers quicken, matching the relentless rhythm of his mouth, and my body arches, desperate for him.

“You’re going to fall apart for me, Ballerina. And this is only the beginning.”

His words blur into the sensations overwhelming me. His tongue swirls over my clit, his teeth grazing lightly before sucking hard enough to make my breath catch. Tension is building in my body, winding tighter with every stroke, every bite, every filthy word that falls from his lips.

“I’m going to do more than touch you with my fingers and tongue. I’m going to fuck you, but not tonight.” His fingers push deeper, making me gasp. “I’d rather not have Daddy disturb us. I want to hear every moan, every cry, every begging plea as you fall apart for me.”

I’m teetering on the edge, his words and actions pushing me closer and closer until it feels like I’ll shatter with the next touch. And then the soft sound of a knock freezes me in place.

Wren flattens a palm against my stomach, pinning me down, and continues to assault me with his mouth.

“Ileana? Is everything okay in there?”

My mom’s voice is a bucket of ice water, snapping me back to reality. My eyes dart to the door, my heart hammering wildly.

“Better answer her,” Wren whispers against my thigh. His fingers don’t stop moving. “Don’t want her walking in, do you?”

“I … I’m fine.” I manage to gasp, the words tumbling out unevenly. He rewards me with another curl of his fingers, and I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle the moan that tries to break free. “J-just a bad dream. I’m okay now. G-going back to sleep.”

“Good girl.” Another finger fills me, and I bite down on my lip to stop from crying out.

“Are you sure?” The handle on my door starts to turn.

“Yes!” The word bursts out of me in a rush, my voice high-pitched and shaky. “Please … I’m trying to sleep. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

The pause seems endless, but then the door handle clicks back into place.

“Okay … as long as you’re okay. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“N-night, Mom.” The words dissolve into a gasp as Wren pinches my nipple hard, sending another rush of pleasure through me. The mix of pain and heat tears away the last thread of my control. My body bows beneath him, and I can’t do anything but fall apart, and hope that no one hears me.

“That’s it, Ballerina. Give it to me. Give me a taste of how perfect you’ll be when I finally fuck you.” His warm breath is against my ear, a wicked promise in his voice.

I can barely breathe, barely think, my senses overwhelmed by the way his fingers keep moving, drawing out every last tremor until I’m limp on the bed. His warmth fades as he pulls back, leaving me floating on the edge of exhaustion and euphoria.

When I blink back into awareness, he’s standing by the window.

"Tomorrow, pretty Ballerina. Tomorrow I'll tell you everything. About the hospital records that don't exist. About the money that appeared from nowhere. About why Daddy checks the locks three times every night."

His words cut through the haze of pleasure, leaving behind something cold. My mouth opens, but he’s already gone.

The rose still sits on my windowsill, a taunting reminder of what I invited into my life. What I allowed him to do to me. And what it means that I wanted it … wanted him .

Sleep is impossible now. All I can think about is how my mom almost walked in on us, but beneath that there’s a voice asking questions. What did he discover today? What secrets has he uncovered?

Tomorrow, he said. Tomorrow everything changes.

And the most terrifying part? I can't wait.