Page 86 of Dare
“Tell me,” he whispered into my neck. “Have you ever been examined?”
The question electrified my skin. I nodded, but my gulp signaled it hadn’t been enjoyable. More than once, I’d endured painful inspections, one of them shortly before Jeryn had me chained to the ceiling.
The prince noted the tension in my joints, a deadly noise slicing from his tongue. “Who was it? Give me names.”
I shook my head. His method of punishment would make me no better than the people who’d hurt every imprisoned soul on this continent. I fought back, but I didn’t torture or murder. Neither would I let him do so on my behalf. I was better than that, better than every tyrant in The Dark Seasons.
Besides, Jeryn couldn’t get to my tormentors from here. And I didn’t want to think about those days.
I wanted here and now and this.
Jeryn translated my silence. “So be it.” Releasing another breath, his chiseled torso pitched against mine. “Then permit me to correct my mistakes. Allow me to treat you.” The next word poured down my skin, gritty and imploring. “Please.”
Permit him. Allow him.
Please.
My exhalations turned choppy. I had barely finished nodding, my mouth falling open as his mouth dove in and gripped the crook of my neck. With a hot tug, Jeryn sucked on the tender flesh, pulling whimpers from my lungs.
I coiled into him, my ass curling against the high ledge of his cock. Taking my reaction as permission, a gravelly noise skidded from Jeryn’s mouth, then he seized my hips and walked us forward.
Together, we crossed the chamber. On the way, Jeryn reached out and snatched something from a wall hook, then stalled us at the room’s midpoint, beneath the overhead pulley.
He released my neck. “Will you trust me?”
Again, I nodded. “Yes.”
This man had opened himself like a wound, exposing his demons to my judgment. Finally, I would trust him. By now, I knew.
He would not harm me. Not anymore.
From behind, Jeryn unspooled two cords of rope, looped them over the pulley, and let the items drop. The prince guided my arms upward, then tied the slack around my wrists, binding me in the same position from Summer’s castle.
I chuffed air like a pump as he secured the bindings, neither too tight nor too loose. My body stretched comfortably instead of being forced taut, as it had been in the quad. Also, my feet remained flat on the ground rather than extended on my tiptoes.
“Command it, and I shall stop,” he intoned. “Are we in agreement?”
“Silly prince,” I whispered. “I can release myself.”
A cool and corrupt breath stroked my cheekbone. “I know.”
He’d never said anything about needing to untie me. This prince knew I could untether myself if I wanted to. Doing so would be my choice.
Yet I didn’t resist.
My consent wrought an indulgent noise from Jeryn, who reached in front of me and dragged the backs of his knuckles down the center of my body, between my erect breasts, down my stomach, and under the nightgown. A whimper rolled from my lips when his fingers combed through the sprigs of hair shrouding my pussy, then cupped the damp swells.
“Fuck,” he hummed. “So slick.”
My head slumped against his rampant heartbeat. A firm set of fingers etched my folds, those doctor’s hands tracing with concentration. Fluid seeped from me and leaked onto Jeryn’s digits, his index finger skimming the crease, passing back and forth with precision. My flesh crackled, and my lips parted, the teasing motions wringing a cry from my throat.
Jeryn groaned, hearing every fractured sound. The thought had me pressing into him, swiveling my ass harder into his broad cock, the rounded head jutting through his pants. The prince shuddered, sank his incisors into the side of my throat, and bent a finger between my soaked walls.
My muscles quivered around that digit, then sealed around him to the knuckle. I whined and bucked against his hand, desperate for higher and deeper, my hips rolling toward his upright finger once, twice. Our pants resonated in the chamber, then another digit pitched between my folds, prying me apart.
With deliberate motions, Jeryn began a steady pump. This doctor worked into me, siphoning in and out, stroking compact areas I’d never felt before, the tips of his fingers reaching places I hadn’t known existed.
He crooned into my throat, his lips sketching my collar tattoo. Then a third finger slipped inside me, his hand hitting a barrier that flung embers through my veins. All the while, his wrist ground sinuously against my clit, inflating the stud. For mercy’s sake, I hadn’t predicted he could do this, hadn’t imagined he could wring these feelings from me.