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She's always been quite particular about her men.
She's never much liked the quiet ones. Too boring.
She's not fond of the aggressive ones either, the kind of man who believes he can take anything he wants. She's seen plenty of them come and go at the dungeon. They don't last.
No, she prefers the ones with a bit of edge to them. A touch of danger, like an ember that's been extinguished, but still retains some of its glow. Those are the ones worth rekindling, the ones she can't help but want to provoke, to watch for those little flashes, those flickers of fire.
It's a bit like dancing with a partner, she supposes, or walking along a cliff's edge. The same high, the same risk, the same thrill.
She's also quite particular about how she likes her men.
Tall, for a start.
Tall enough that it'd be an effort to kiss him. He'd have to bow his head and bend down, and that is always delicious. To have him stoop for her, to have him lean into her, to have him ask permission before he kisses her.
And he would ask, too. Not because he wouldn't want to, but because it would please her, and that's exactly the sort of man he is. One who's more concerned with pleasing than with being pleased. One who is willing to be controlled, to surrender to her touch.
He'll have broad shoulders and long arms, the better to hold her. Muscled, but not excessively so. His face will be angular, his brows arched, and his mouth—oh, his mouth will be lush and inviting.
He will look every inch a king, and he will kneel for her.
The problem with most men, the ones who come through the doors of the club, is that they're so easily defined. There's the angry one who pays for the privilege of having a woman beat him until his back is striped and raw. There's the nervous one who is happiest tied up in a simple harness, a sub who is only looking for a moment's release from his everyday life. There's the one who just wants to spank a pretty girl, the one who's curious about fisting, the one who is looking for a woman who will pretend to be his daughter.
So many men. So few mysteries.
But tonight, a man walks in the door, and she is intrigued.
He is tall, taller than anyone she has seen before, and it is not just his height that draws her gaze. Everything about him is striking: the set of his mouth, the cut of his white hair, the angle of his cheekbones, the breadth of his shoulders. But there's something else, something about the way he moves, with a certain languor, a certain grace.
And that's how she knows, right then and there.
That's how she knows, from that first glimpse, that this man will be hers.
Sylus's here because of a dare.
Not the kind you make at a fraternity party. He's long past those days.
The kind of dare that happens when you've known the same people for over a decade, when your social circles have narrowed to a small group of friends, the ones you can count on to be interesting, to know and appreciate all your best stories, the ones who've been with you through thick and thin and know that the thin is always, inevitably, right around the corner.
This dare is the result of a long, rambling night at their favorite bar. The drinks have flowed freely, as they always do, and the conversation has taken a turn toward the macabre.
They've been talking about sex, about the things people will pay for, the things they will do, the things they will allow strangers to do.
"You're telling me there are people out there who will pay for it?"
Sylus is a handsome man, and he's always had his pick of women. He can't imagine a world where someone would need to pay for sex.
"More than you would think," Luke replies with a grin.
Luke has always been the wild one, the one with the ideas. Kieran's more careful, more practical. They balance each other well.
"And you?"
Sylus's not sure why he asks, only that Luke has that glint in his eye, the one that says he has a story to tell, and he won't let it go until Sylus asks.
"What about me?"
"Have you done it?"
The question is more personal than Sylus normally allows, but this is Luke. He's allowed a few liberties.
"There's this club." Luke's grin grows wider, and his eyes have a wicked gleam. "It's called the Black Iris. It's invitation-only. And if you're not invited, you have to be recommended. I can get you in. All you have to do is say the word."
"And why would I want to go there?"
"Because it's interesting," Kieran replies.
"Because it's hot," Luke adds.
Sylus can't help but laugh.
"All right, fine. I'll bite. What is this place?"
Luke and Kieran exchange a look, and Sylus can tell they're deciding which of them will explain, which one will talk their leader into doing something that's probably a terrible idea.
It's Luke who speaks.
"It's a BDSM club," he says, his voice dropping, even though there's no one else in the bar, no one else listening.
"A sex club." Kieran clarifies, because that's how he is, precise to a fault.
"Yeah, but like, not a regular sex club. It's classy."
Luke's enthusiasm is palpable. Sylus guesses he's visited this place before. Probably more than once.
"Why would I want to visit a sex club? I can find women on my own."
He doesn't say that his luck has been a little off lately, though. The women he meets aren't what he's looking for. They're beautiful, of course, but they're all the same. Pretty, empty-headed things who smile and flirt with anyone who looks like he has money. They're not interested in him. They're not even remotely interesting themselves.
"Not like this," Luke says. "Trust me, the women at the Iris are different. They're not the kind of women you pick up at a bar. They're professionals. They know what they're doing."
"They're whores, you mean."
"That's not a very nice way to put it," Kieran chides, though Sylus is fairly certain he's teasing.
"Call a spade a spade," Sylus retorts, but his mind is already spinning.
"You can have anyone you want." Luke leans in, eager now. "You can have anything you want. Whatever your fantasy, they can make it happen."
"And what makes you think I have any fantasies?"
Sylus has never told anyone about his secret desires. His dreams. The things he keeps hidden, deep inside.
Luke leans back and laughs.
"Every man has fantasies."
He's not wrong, but Sylus still doesn't want to admit it.
"How much will this cost me?"
Luke grins, and Sylus has a sudden, terrible feeling he's been outmaneuvered.
The Black Iris is unlike any club Sylus has ever been to.
It's not just the atmosphere. The dark walls, the low lights, the music playing at just the right volume, not too loud, not too soft. The way the air smells like perfume and wine. The way the bartenders look more like models than servers, all tall and willowy, with perfect makeup and expensive clothes. The way the room is divided into sections, each one a little different, each one a little more exclusive.
No, it's not the atmosphere. It's the people.
He's been watching them, studying them. Trying to figure out which ones are staff, and which ones are customers. He's pretty sure he's identified most of them. The women who work here are confident, poised. They carry themselves with an ease and an elegance that Sylus has never seen in a regular nightclub. They walk like queens. And by the way the customers treat them, they might as well be.
But even among the women, there are hierarchies. He can see them, subtle as they are. There's a woman dressed in leather and lace, with a whip coiled at her hip, and the other women move out of her way. He's seen men and women bow their heads when she passes. She's the highest-ranking Domme in the room, that much is clear.
"Shit, that's the owner." Luke has noticed where he's looking, and his expression is one of awe. "She's the one who runs the whole thing."
Sylus studies the woman, taking in her long hair, her red lips, her dark eyes.
"Does she..."
"No. But she could. Anyone she wanted."
Luke's voice is reverent, and Sylus can't blame him. This woman is a force. She moves through the club with the confidence of an empress. She's the only person in the room who seems completely comfortable. Completely at ease. Completely in control.
"What's her name?"
"Viper. She doesn't use her real name. None of them do."
Sylus watches her move. The way she carries herself. The way she commands a room without even speaking. She's not tall, far from it, but there's a sense of presence to her, a sense of power. She's young, he realizes, probably not much older than he is. She can't have been running the club for long, and yet, the other employees seem to defer to her without hesitation.
Sylus thinks he knows how they feel. He's drawn to her, even from across the room. He can't look away. He doesn't want to.
Her eyes catch his, and he can't tell what color they are. Only that they're bright and piercing, and there's a sharp intelligence in them, a keen understanding. He feels as if she can see right through him, past all his defenses, past all his pretenses. There's something intoxicating about that, about the way she looks at him, as if she knows him, or can see right through him, or would like to peel back his skin and look underneath.
Her lips curve into a smile, and she makes her way towards them, her hips swaying, her heels clicking against the floor. By the way the staff and the other patrons react, Sylus assumes she doesn't normally mingle with her clientele, and yet, here she is. Making her way towards him.
"Welcome to the Black Iris." Her voice is smooth, a low purr, and her eyes are fixed on his. "Is this your first time?"
He tries not to let his surprise show, but she smiles, as if she can tell anyway.
"It's always nice to meet a newcomer." She extends her hand, and Sylus takes it. Her skin is soft, her nails sharp. "My name is Viper."
"Sylus."
"What brings you here, Sylus?"
"A dare."
Her smile widens.
"A dare, hmm?"
"Something like that."
"You're not a man who likes to lose, are you?"
"What makes you say that?"
She laughs, and it's a low, smoky sound.
"It's my job to know these things." She leans closer, and Sylus can smell her perfume, a light, floral scent that reminds him of summer. "Let me guess... you're in charge of your business. You're used to having the final say, to getting what you want, when you want. Am I right?"
"Close enough."
He can't deny that he's impressed. She's pegged him.
"Well, the rules are a little different here. But I think you'll find that you're in good hands."
She gestures at the club around them, at the men and women moving through the space with easy confidence, the customers watching with admiration and desire. But Sylus can't tear his gaze away from her. She's captivating.
"The Black Iris is about more than sex," she continues. "It's about indulging your every fantasy. Finding pleasure in the things you've always denied yourself. Exploring your deepest desires."
He wonders what it would be like, to let go of his self-control, to give in to her.
"Would you like a drink?" she asks, nodding towards the bar.
He glances over his shoulder and sees Luke and Kieran watching him. Luke looks stunned, like he can't believe this is happening, but Kieran's eyes are full of amusement. They both nod at him, their expressions identical, and Sylus has a sudden feeling of foreboding.
He's out of his element.
"Sure." He turns back to her, and her smile is like the sun coming out.
She leads him to the bar, her hand resting lightly on his arm. Her touch is feather-light, but it sends a shiver through him. The bartender gives her a respectful nod, and she orders for both of them.
"A whiskey for my guest," she tells him. "And I'll have my usual."
Sylus raises an eyebrow.
"What makes you think I drink whiskey?"
Viper leans in, close enough for him to feel her breath on his skin.
"You smell like whiskey," she whispers.
The bartender returns with their drinks.
"To dares," Viper says, her glass clinking against his.
Sylus takes a sip, and the whiskey is warm and smooth. It's not cheap, and he's surprised to find that she knows his taste so well.
"So, tell me about these fantasies of yours," she murmurs.
"What makes you think I have any fantasies?"
"Everyone has fantasies." She reaches out, and her fingertips trail down his arm. Her nails are painted black, shaped into sharp points. For nefarious purposes, he imagines. "It's my job to find out what they are."
"I thought you didn't take clients."
She smiles, and her teeth are white and perfect.
"You're a special case."
Sylus isn't sure whether to be flattered or alarmed.
"Tell me about yourself," she says. "What brings you here tonight?"
"My friends thought I could use a break."
"And can you? Use a break, that is?"
"Maybe."
"You seem a little tense."
Her hand trails along his arm, her fingers grazing his wrist.
"Is it the setting? We can go somewhere a little more private."
The suggestion is enticing, but Sylus isn't sure what he's agreeing to.
"What are you offering?"
"Anything you want."
"And what is the price of your company?"
She smiles, and her eyes are dark and unfathomable.
"For you? Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"You see, Sylus," Viper murmurs, and the way his name rolls off her tongue makes his blood race, "I've been doing this for a while. It's not a question of money. I've got plenty of that. No, I do this because I like it. Because I'm good at it. And because it amuses me."
"You enjoy having men at your mercy?"
She arches a brow.
"Don't you?"
He can't deny that. He's made a career out of holding all the cards, of always being in control. And so has she, just in a different way. They're not so different, after all.
"Why me?"
"Because you intrigue me."
He wants to ask what she means, but the words die in his throat as she rises from her seat, her dress sliding against his legs, her body brushing his.
"Come with me," she murmurs.
He lets her take his hand and lead him from the bar. He can feel the eyes of the other customers on him, jealous, envious, and he feels a flash of triumph. Viper has chosen him, and he's the one who gets to follow her into the shadows.
Her grip is firm, and he can feel her strength, her confidence. He follows her down a long hallway, away from the sounds of the club, to a room at the end. She opens the door and pulls him inside, and the noise of the music and the people fades into the distance.
The room is luxurious, like the rest of the club. There's a bed in the center, draped in silks and velvets, and a table against one wall, with a variety of objects laid out on it. Whips and chains and ropes, and a few things he doesn't recognize.
"Is this what you're into?" He gestures to the table, and she laughs.
"I'm into whatever my clients want. Some men like to be dominated. Some like to dominate. And some like a little bit of both."
"Which are you?"
She arches a brow. "Do I look like the sort of woman who needs a man to tell her what to do?"
Sylus grins. "I suppose not."
"Sit."
She motions to the bed, and he obeys. Which is surprising in itself. He doesn't take orders from anyone.
"So, tell me." She moves closer, her hips swaying. "What is it that you've always wanted, but have never dared to ask for?"
"What makes you think I've never dared to ask for anything?"
"Because if you had, you wouldn't be here. With me."
She’s right. She knows she's right.
"Do you want a woman who's docile and obedient? A woman who'll do whatever you tell her to do, without question?"
Sylus has had his share of those women—they're a dime a dozen.
"Or do you want a woman who's a challenge? A woman who's intelligent and strong, who's not afraid to speak her mind, who won't be intimidated by your wealth or your power?"
Sylus has had women like that, too, but none who've captured his interest the way Viper has.
"Or maybe," she continues, drawing closer, her eyes dark and gleaming, "you want a woman who's dangerous. A woman who could bring even a powerful man like you to your knees."
She's standing in front of him now, and she trails her fingers along his jaw, her touch like fire. Sylus finds himself leaning into it, despite himself.
"Tell me, Sylus. Which woman do you want? Because that's the woman I'll be for you tonight."
Sylus doesn't hesitate. "I want you."
Viper's eyes are unreadable. "Then you'll have me."
And she kisses him, her lips soft and sweet, her hands tangling in his hair. He responds eagerly, his hands roaming her body, pulling her closer. She's intoxicating, and he can't get enough.
She breaks the kiss, her lips curved in a smirk. "But first, there are rules."
"Rules?"
"Of course. I may indulge your fantasies, but only under my terms. And the first rule is, I'm in control."
He's not sure if he likes the sound of that, but she's already moved on, her hands trailing down his chest, her touch leaving a wake of heat.
"Rule two," she murmurs, her voice low and seductive. "You will do as I say. If you don't, the game is over, and you'll have to find your pleasure somewhere else."
Sylus swallows. The idea of leaving now is unbearable.
"What else?"
"That's all." She smiles, and there's a hint of wickedness in it. "Oh, and if you want me to stop, all you have to do is say so. But I don't think that will be a problem."
Her confidence is infuriating.
"And why's that?"
"Because, Sylus," she purrs, leaning in, her lips brushing his ear, "I can tell that you're a man who likes a challenge."
Her fingers trace the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips.
"Undress."
It's an order, not a request, and he's surprised to find that he doesn't mind obeying. He wants to see what she has planned for him. He wants to feel her touch on his bare skin. He wants to know what it would be like to let her take control, just for tonight.
He starts with his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly, deliberately. He knows he's putting on a show, and he enjoys the way she watches him, her eyes dark and hungry. She takes a step closer, her hand reaching out to trace the lines of his chest, his shoulders, his arms. He's been told before that he's attractive, and he knows that women have desires too, but he's never had anyone look at him the way Viper does. Like she's a starving woman and he's a feast.
His shirt falls to the floor, and she leans in, her breath warm against his skin. Her fingers trail across his chest, exploring every inch of him, tracing the scars that tell the story of his life. She presses her lips to one of the older ones, a relic of a knife fight from when he was young, and the touch is almost reverent.
"I didn't take you for a fighter." Her voice is soft, and there's something else there, too. Admiration. Respect.
"I didn't always have money."
"Hmm. And what did you have instead?"
"Strength."
She nods, as if that's answer enough, and moves to another scar, her lips feather-light against his skin.
He wants to touch her, too, but she hasn't given him permission, and so he remains still, letting her explore him at her own pace. Her touch is maddening, but in the best way, and he finds himself leaning into it, craving more.
She reaches for his belt, and he lets her unfasten it, lets her pull it from the loops. She coils it around her hand, the leather whispering through her fingers, and Sylus has a sudden vision of that belt striking his skin, the sting of it, the heat.
She smiles, as if she knows what he's thinking.
"Not tonight."
Her voice is low and sultry, and the promise in it is enough to make him shiver. She tosses the belt aside and returns her attention to his trousers, unfastening them and pushing them down his hips. His cock springs free, hard and aching for her touch. Viper makes no move to touch him, though. Not yet.
Instead, she steps back and surveys him, taking in every inch of him. She's still fully dressed, her clothing a stark contrast to his nakedness, and the sight is erotic, in its own way.
"Impressive," she murmurs, her eyes lingering on his cock. It twitches, as if in response, and she smiles.
He's never needed praise, but coming from her, it's a thrill. He wonders how he looks, standing naked before her, his cock jutting out, his eyes dark with desire. He imagines he must look like a beast, primal and savage, his desire barely restrained.
"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me," Viper continues, her gaze flicking up to meet his. "I could tell, the moment I saw you."
"You were watching me."
It's not a question, and she doesn't deny it.
"Of course. I wanted to know if you were worthy."
"Worthy of what?"
"Of me." She smiles, a predatory smile. "You know how many men and women would kill to be in your position right now? To have my undivided attention? To have me give them pleasure beyond their wildest dreams?"
He has no doubt of that. He'd seen the jealousy on the faces of the others.
"I'm a busy woman. I don't have time to waste on unworthy partners. So, I have to be sure."
"And are you?"
Her smile widens, and there's a hint of amusement in her eyes.
"Yes. I am."
Sylus tries not to feel like a piece of meat on display, but he has a feeling he's failing.
"You have a strong body," she says, her eyes raking over him. "Strong, powerful. I like men who are built for fighting. Men who have had to fight their way to the top. Men who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty."
Sylus has always been those things, and the way Viper describes it, there's something erotic about it.
"I like the look of a man who's been broken and rebuilt," she murmurs, her voice low and seductive. "I like knowing that I'm the only one who can take him apart, and then put him back together, piece by piece. It's an intimate process, wouldn't you agree?"
He has a feeling that he's going to enjoy the experience.
She reaches for his hands, her fingers trailing over his knuckles, exploring the roughness and the scars. Sylus wonders if she's used to men who've never worked with their hands, men who don't have the calluses and the scars of a lifetime of hard work.
"You are big everywhere," she murmurs, and the compliment is somehow filthy and innocent at the same time.
Sylus isn't used to feeling self-conscious, but he does now. She's so close that he can feel the heat of her body, the whisper of her breath, and yet they're not touching, not yet. He's not used to having his desire on display, and he can't remember the last time a woman has made him feel this way. Like he's a teenager again, hot-blooded and desperate, his body responding to even the slightest touch.
"You're very still," she says. "Most men can't sit still."
She reaches for his face, her fingers trailing along his jaw.
"They push their luck, test my limits, because they want to see what they can get away with."
She moves closer, and the scent of her perfume fills his senses.
"But not you."
"Maybe I'm just biding my time."
She smiles.
"I'm a good judge of character, and I can tell that you're not the type of man to do something unless you're certain you can get away with it."
He wonders how she can be so sure. She hardly knows him. Or does she?
She brushes her lips against his, the kiss gentle and fleeting, and he chases after her, his body aching for more. She laughs softly, her hand cupping his face.
"Patience, Sylus. We have all night."
He doesn't want to be patient, but he doesn't have a choice. He's under her spell, and he'll follow her lead, no matter where it takes him.
She smiles, and her teeth are white and perfect.
"There are so many ways to take a man apart. So many ways to make him beg."
Her fingers trail down his neck, his chest, his stomach, his hips, until they're teasing the head of his cock. Sylus shudders, his body trembling.
"You're good," he murmurs.
"I know."
Her nails trace a delicate path down his shaft, and Sylus has to grip the bedsheets to keep himself from grabbing her. She smiles, as if she can read his mind, and presses a kiss to his throat.
"Tell me what you want, Sylus."
He could tell her, but he has a feeling that would take all the fun out of it.
"Guess."
"Oh, a game. I do like games."
Her nails trail up his thighs, and she nips at his jaw.
"I'll go slow," she promises. "Until you can't stand it anymore."
She sinks to her knees, her eyes never leaving his, and Sylus's breath catches in his throat.
Her lips press against his inner thigh, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Sylus groans, his body tense with anticipation. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she makes her way up his thigh, her lips and tongue and teeth leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
Sylus's hands clench and unclench at his sides, the urge to grab her, to pull her close, almost overwhelming. But he holds himself back, determined not to lose control. Because this is a battle, too, and he's not willing to concede defeat.
She reaches the apex of his thighs, her breath ghosting over his cock, and he can't stop the moan that escapes his lips.
"Is this what you want, Sylus?" she asks, blowing a cool stream of air across his heated flesh. "Do you want my mouth on you? Do you want me to taste you?"
"Yes," he growls, unable to stop the word from spilling out.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, please."
"Good manners," she says, her eyes dark with lust. "I like that. Very well, since you asked so nicely."
Her lips close around him, and Sylus's world narrows to her, the feel of her mouth, the heat of her tongue, the way her fingers dig into his thighs. He is big, and she can't take all of him, but she takes as much as she can, her mouth tight and wet and perfect.
Sylus's hands fist in the bedsheets, and his hips rock of their own accord, pushing deeper into her mouth. He's not usually a selfish lover, but he can't help it. He wants more, and she seems happy to let him take what he needs.
Her nails dig into his skin, her teeth grazing him, and Sylus groans, a deep, primal sound.
He doesn't know how long he lasts. It could be minutes, or hours, or days. All he knows is that it's not enough. He needs more.
When he's about to come, Viper pulls back, her lips leaving his cock with a wet pop. Sylus moans, the sound half-pleasure, half-frustration.
She smiles, a Cheshire grin, and Sylus has never seen anything so erotic.
"Not yet," she says, teasing. "Not until I say."
Sylus grits his teeth, his body trembling, but he doesn't protest.
"I'm going to enjoy taking you apart, piece by piece," Viper murmurs, her voice low and dangerous. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging for mercy."
She's good. She's very, very good.
She kisses her way down his other thigh, her tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Sylus's body is tense, his muscles coiled like a spring, his pulse racing. He's never been with a woman like this, so confident, so commanding, and it's exhilarating.
Her fingers trace patterns on his skin, her nails leaving faint, red marks. He's sure he's not the first man she's marked.
Her teeth sink into his flesh, a little harder than before, and Sylus groans, the sting of pain mingling with the pleasure.
"How do you feel?" she asks, her lips pressed against his thigh.
"Frustrated," he replies, truthfully.
"Good."
"Is that what you like?" Sylus asks, the words tumbling out. "Making men frustrated?"
"I like making them beg."
She licks the length of his shaft, her tongue agonizingly slow.
"I like watching them fall apart."
She takes him into her mouth again, her movements deliberate and torturous.
"And then, when they're completely at my mercy..."
Her teeth graze him, and Sylus groans.
"I make them scream."
Sylus is sure he's not the first man she's reduced to incoherence, but he's damned if he'll let her have the satisfaction of breaking him.
She swirls her tongue around the head of his cock, her eyes locked on his, and Sylus swears he can see amusement glinting in their depths. She knows exactly what she's doing to him, and she's enjoying it.
He's determined not to give her the satisfaction of a response, but his resolve crumbles when her mouth moves lower, taking him deeper. His hands fist in the sheets, his hips bucking involuntarily, and he can't stop the moan that spills from his lips.
She sucks harder, her mouth and hands moving in tandem, and Sylus feels his climax building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside him.
He's on the verge of losing control, and he knows she can feel it.
She pulls away, and Sylus swears, his cock twitching in the cold air. It's agony. Sweet, sweet agony.
"Please," he says, the word torn from him.
He's surprised to hear himself say it, surprised that he's not above begging. But she's brought him this low, and the thought shouldn't turn him on.
"Please what?" she asks, her eyes dark and predatory.
"Make me come," he says, his voice ragged.
She smiles, and there's a hint of wickedness in the curve of her lips.
"Say it again."
"Please."
She wraps her hand around him, her fingers tightening around his shaft.
"Again."
"Please."
The word is a growl, a demand, and Viper laughs, a low, seductive sound.
"I don't think you mean it," she says, her grip tightening on his cock. "But that's all right. I'll make you mean it."
She slides her mouth down his shaft, taking him deep, and Sylus's hips buck involuntarily. He can't stop himself, and he doesn't want to.
Maybe is because he hasn't been with a woman in a long time, but everything about this is intense, more so than it's ever been before. Maybe is because she's playing him like a fiddle, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from him, or maybe it's just her.
He doesn't know, and he doesn't care.
All he knows is that he wants more.
She works her mouth and her hand in tandem, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. His hips rock in time with her movements, and his hands find her hair, tangling in the soft strands.
He's close. So close.
He can feel the pressure building, the pleasure mounting. And then, just when he thinks he can't take it anymore, she stops.
He makes a sound, something between a whimper and a growl, and her laughter echoes in the room.
"Don't stop," he gasps, the words torn from him.
"You don't give the orders here," she says, rising to her feet. Her dress is disheveled, her lipstick smudged, but she looks triumphant, like a demon who has just claimed another victim. "You asked me for a fantasy, and I'm giving it to you. Don't you want to know what it's like, to be at a woman's mercy? To surrender control? To let someone else be in charge?"
He does. He wants it more than he can say.
"That's the problem with men like you," she says, reaching behind her to unzip her dress. "You're always in charge. You always have to be in control. But not tonight. Tonight, you're mine."
Sylus swallows, his heart racing, as she lets her dress fall to the floor, revealing her perfect body. She's wearing an intricate black harness, a spiderweb of straps and buckles that cradles her breasts and accentuates her curves.
"Do you like it?" she asks, running her hands over the harness.
Sylus groans.
It's not a word, but he's not sure what else to say. Yes seems insufficient, but no would be a lie.
"I'll take that as a yes," she says, her eyes glittering with amusement.
Sylus isn't a man who gets flustered, but this woman has managed to knock him off balance, and he's not sure what to do. Part of him wants to pull her into his lap and kiss her, but he's afraid that she'll stop, that she'll walk away, and he's not ready for this night to end.
"Tell me," Viper says, her voice low and seductive, "have you ever been tied up, Sylus? Have you ever been at a woman's mercy?"
"I've never been at anyone's mercy," he counters. "No woman, and no man. You don't get where I am by giving up control."
Viper smiles, and there's a hint of anticipation in the curve of her lips.
"Oh, darling, that's where you're wrong. That's where we're all wrong."
She steps toward him, and Sylus's breath catches in his throat.
"We're all at the mercy of something, even if we don't realize it," she continues, her fingers tracing the planes of his chest. "Money, power, fame... Love. We give ourselves over to these things, and when they fail us, we're lost."
Her hands trail lower, her nails grazing his abdomen.
"There's a certain freedom in letting go of control. In knowing that there's nothing you can do, that your fate is in the hands of another. There's a certain power in that, too."
Sylus swallows, his body tensing under her touch.
"You have such a perfect body," Viper murmurs, her fingers tracing the ridges of his abdomen. "Toned, muscular, but not too much. Just the way I like it. You remind me of a wild animal, a tiger or a wolf. Something beautiful, but dangerous. Something that needs to be tamed."
She leans in, her breath hot against his ear.
"You will look so good, trussed up in rope," she whispers. "Red is a good color on you."
She presses a kiss to his neck, and her teeth scrape against his skin. Then, she's gone, and Sylus can't stop the groan that escapes his lips. Viper walks to the armoire, her hips swaying, and Sylus can't tear his eyes away.
She opens the doors, and the light catches on the array of rope inside. She chooses a length of red rope, and brings it back to the bed.
"Get up," she says. "Put your hands behind your back."
Sylus can't resist a challenge, but he's not sure he can handle another taste of her torture. He wants to be a gentleman, a chivalrous lover, but it's hard when his cock is aching, his balls tight, and his patience is wearing thin.
He does as she asks, getting up from the bed and putting his hands behind his back. He feels the softness of the rope against his skin, and then a tugging sensation as she begins to tie his wrists together.
"Shibari," she explains, as her fingers work the rope. "It's a form of Japanese bondage. It's all about the artistry, the symmetry, the beauty of the knots. A lot of people use rope play as a form of meditation. The process of tying and untying the knots can be very therapeutic."
Her fingers continue to work the rope, and Sylus is fascinated by the precision and dexterity of her movements. She clearly has a lot of practice at this, and he wonders how many men have found themselves in his position, helpless and at her mercy. The thought bothers him more than he cares to admit.
"The rope accentuates the lines of your body," she says, her fingers running along the ropes on his back. "It highlights your muscles, your strength. You look beautiful like this, Sylus. Like a sculpture, or a painting."
Sylus has always prided himself on his physicality. He's strong, lean, and athletic, and he's used to women admiring him. But it's different with Viper. Her gaze is more intense, more appreciative, like a sculptor admiring her work.
"I'm going to blindfold you," she says, producing a silk scarf from the nightstand. "It will heighten your other senses, and intensify the experience."
"I want to see you," he says, unable to hide the desire in his voice.
"You'll still feel me," she says, pressing her lips to his. "And that's what's important."
He gives in, allowing her to tie the scarf around his eyes, blocking out his vision. He's left in the darkness, and his other senses seem heightened, attuned to her presence. He hears the whisper of her breath, and the clicking of her heels as she circles him. He feels the brush of her hair against his skin, and the heat of her body as she stands behind him.
"So vulnerable," she whispers, her breath hot against his ear. "So exposed."
Her hands slide over his shoulders, and down his chest, her fingers tracing the ropes that bind his arms behind his back. She touches him everywhere, except where he wants her most, and the feeling is both exhilarating and infuriating.
"You're a tease," he growls, his body tense with anticipation.
"I'm an artist," she counters, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "And you're my canvas."
Her nails scrape lightly across his nipples, and Sylus groans, his body trembling. He can feel the heat of her, inches away from his cock, and he can't stop the needy sound that escapes his lips.
She laughs, the sound low and wicked, and then her teeth sink into his flesh.
"Fuck," he gasps, his back arching.
"Not yet," she whispers.
She sucks and bites and licks, leaving marks all over his body. Marks he won't be able to hide. Not that he'd want to.
He loves this, loves the sting of her teeth, the heat of her breath. Loves the way she marks him, claims him, makes him hers.
His cock is leaking, and he aches for release, but she's not done with him yet.
"Patience," she murmurs, her fingers trailing over his hip, skimming the base of his cock. "Good things come to those who wait."
Sylus lets out a low moan, his body taut with desire.
He feels her lips on his back, her tongue tracing the lines of the rope. Her fingers slide between his thighs, brushing his balls, and Sylus's hips jerk, his body desperate for more.
"Do you like this?" she whispers, her breath hot against his skin.
"Yes," he rasps, unable to deny it.
"I can tell."
Her fingers wrap around his cock, and Sylus's breath catches in his throat.
"I love the way you feel," she says, stroking him slowly. "Hard and heavy in my hand. You are so big. I bet it will hurt when you're inside me. I bet you will stretch me so wide. But don't worry, I like a little bit of pain."
Sylus's blood pounds in his ears, his body taut with need.
"I think I'm going to ride you," she says, her fingers sliding over his shaft. "And you're going to stay perfectly still, just the way I want you. No moving. No thrusting. Nothing. You're going to let me use your cock however I want. And when I'm done, you're going to beg me to let you come."
He groans, his head spinning. He's not a man who begs, but with her, he's willing to consider it.
She guides him onto the bed, pushing him down on his back. She straddles him, and he can feel the heat of her core through her panties. His hands fist behind his back, longing to touch her. But he's helpless, his arms bound, his sight denied.
All he can do is feel, and it's maddening.
"Don't move," she warns, sliding her hands up his chest.
She leans forward, and her breasts brush his face, her nipples hard. She presses her lips to his, and Sylus kisses her hungrily, his body straining toward hers. She tastes like alcohol and sin, and he wants more.
But she pulls back, denying him.
"Stay still," she murmurs, her fingers trailing over his lips. "You can be a good boy, can't you, Sylus?"
"I'm not a boy," he growls.
She laughs, her nails scratching his cheek.
"Oh, I know," she purrs, grinding her hips against his.
Sylus groans, the heat of her core through the fabric driving him wild. He can feel the wetness seeping through, the evidence of her desire.
"But right now, you're going to be a good boy and let me have my way with you. And if you're lucky, I'll let you come."
She leans down and kisses him again, her lips soft and warm.
"But not until I say so."
She reaches between them and takes his cock in her hand, guiding him to her entrance. He feels the heat of her, and the wetness, and he grits his teeth, fighting the urge to buck his hips and bury himself inside her. This is torture, exquisite, delicious torture, and he never wants it to end.
She sinks down on him, inch by agonizing inch, and Sylus groans, the pleasure and the pressure almost overwhelming.
She's tight, and wet, and perfect, and it takes every ounce of willpower he has not to come immediately.
The lack of sight heightens his other senses, and he's acutely aware of the way her inner walls grip him, the scent of her skin, the sound of her breathing.
"God, you're so big," she gasps, her fingers digging into his chest. "You fill me up so good."
She's a foul temptress, an agent of chaos, but Sylus doesn't care. He'd happily burn in hell, as long as she's riding his cock.
He feels her muscles flex around him, her thighs tightening as she lifts herself up. He wants to watch her, to see the pleasure etched on her face, but the blindfold denies him that pleasure.
Instead, he imagines her, the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts. The look of pure ecstasy on her face as she slides down his length, taking him to the hilt.
"So deep," she purrs, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "And you are not even all the way in. Just a little more..."
She's so tight, and his cock is so big, he can't imagine fitting all the way inside her.
She continues to impale herself on him, her movements slow and deliberate, her breathing growing ragged.
Sylus's body is taut, his muscles straining against the ropes. He wants to touch her, to run his hands over her skin, to pull her down and kiss her. But all he can do is lay there, helpless, as she takes her pleasure from his body.
She's so fucking tight, and her body grips him like a vice, squeezing his cock with every movement.
"You feel so good," she moans, her hands roaming over his chest. "So big, so hard."
She sinks down on him, her body clenching around him, and Sylus fights the urge to come. The tip of his cock is buried inside her, and she feels like heaven, her inner walls fluttering around him.
"Do you feel that?" she murmurs, her fingers trailing down his abdomen. "Your cock is kissing my womb."
Sylus shudders at the image, his mind filling in the details. He can't see her, but he can imagine her, her thighs spread, her pussy stretched around him. It's the hottest thing he's ever experienced, and he's not sure how much longer he can hold out.
"You're so close," she purrs, her voice seductive. "So close to filling me up."
"Fuck," he grits out, his body trembling with the effort of staying still.
"So big," she breathes, her hips rocking against him. "You're going to split me in half."
He can't help but respond, his cock swelling inside her.
"Do you like that?" she asks, her nails digging into his chest. "Do you like knowing you're too big for me? That I have to work to take you?"
Sylus doesn't answer, his mouth too dry, his body too tight. He can't form words, not with the way she's grinding against him, her movements slow and torturous.
"I bet you could break free," she murmurs, her lips brushing his. "If you really wanted to. You're strong enough. You could break the ropes, flip me over, fuck me the way you want to. But you won't. Because that's not what I want. And right now, your only concern is pleasing me."
She's right. It's a game, and he's losing. But he doesn't care.
She's riding him, her hips moving in a slow, sensuous rhythm. Every time she sinks down on him, the tip of his cock is buried inside her, pressing against her cervix. She moans, her fingers gripping his chest, her nails leaving marks.
"I can feel you everywhere," she gasps, her hips rising and falling. "You're so deep, Sylus. I've never felt so full. You're going to ruin me for other men."
The thought should fill him with pleasure, but instead, he feels a twinge of something like jealousy. He doesn't want to think about her with other men, doesn't want to imagine her riding some other lucky bastard the way she's riding him.
"Are you jealous?" she asks, her voice low and dangerous.
"No," he says, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue.
She laughs, a dark, throaty sound that sends a shiver down his spine.
"Liar," she murmurs, her hips moving faster, her body clenching around him. "You're jealous. You don't want to share me. You want me all to yourself."
"Viper," he groans, his body arching beneath hers.
She's riding him hard now, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Admit it," she demands, her nails raking across his chest. "You're jealous. Say it."
"Yes," he hisses, the word pulled from him against his will.
He can't resist her, can't deny her anything, not when she's got him at her mercy. Not when she's riding him, her pussy gripping him, her body begging for his seed.
She's a dangerous woman, a deadly temptation, and Sylus should know better. But he's never been one to play it safe. He's always lived on the edge, and Viper is the greatest risk he's ever taken.
And he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that she's worth it.
"Yes, I'm jealous," he admits, his voice ragged with need. "I don't want to share you."
She rewards him by sinking down on him, her inner walls gripping him like a vise.
"Oh, Sylus," she purrs, her fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. "You can't have me. I'm not yours."
He knows this, but the words still sting. He wants to claim her, to make her his, but he knows she's too wild, too dangerous, for him to ever tame.
"But maybe," she murmurs, her lips brushing his, "maybe I can have you."
He shudders, her words sending a bolt of desire through him.
"Do you want that, Sylus?" she asks, her breath hot against his ear. "Do you want me to have you? To make you my pet, my toy, my little plaything?"
Her words should make him angry, but they don't. They make him feel owned, possessed, claimed. And he finds that he likes it.
He nods, his breath catching in his throat.
"Say it," she whispers, her voice like honey and poison. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours," he gasps, his body surrendering to her.
"Say you belong to me."
"I belong to you."
He knows it's dangerous, that he's playing a deadly game, but he can't help himself. He's caught in her web, and there's no escape.
She's moving faster now, her hips rising and falling, her pussy clenching around him. She's close, and Sylus knows he's not far behind.
He's aching, his cock throbbing inside her, his balls tight. He wants to come, to bury himself inside her and fill her with his seed, but he waits, his body tense, his fists clenched.
"Come for me, Sylus," she demands, leaning forward, her hair tickling his face. "I want to feel you spill inside me. I want to milk every last drop from you."
He groans, his control slipping, his body trembling with need.
"Come on, Sylus," she coaxes, her hips moving faster, her pussy gripping him like a vise. "Be a good boy and come for me."
It's all too much. The feel of her, the scent of her, the sound of her. Sylus can't hold back any longer. His hips arch off the bed, his cock driving deeper inside her, and then he's coming, his release spilling inside her, his body shuddering with pleasure.
She cries out, her body clenching around him, drawing out his climax. He feels her pussy milking him, her inner walls fluttering, and he knows she's coming too, her orgasm triggered by his.
She collapses against him, her breath hot against his skin, her heartbeat thundering in his ears.
"Good boy," she murmurs, her fingers stroking his jaw.
Sylus has never been a man who responds to praise, but he finds that he likes it, coming from her.
She kisses him, her lips soft and warm, and he feels the blindfold being untied, the world coming into focus. The light is dim, but it still makes him wince, his eyes adjusting to the brightness. When he can finally see, the first thing he sees is her, and she's a sight to behold.
She's flushed, her cheeks pink, her eyes bright. Her hair is mussed, and her lips are swollen from kissing. And she's smiling, a small, satisfied smile that makes his heart pound in his chest.
He wants to say something clever, something charming, but his mind is blank. All he can do is stare at her, taking in every detail.
She's a goddess, a viper, a vision, and he's helpless beneath her gaze.
"I'll let you go now," she says, her fingers dancing along the ropes.
She unties the knots, and the rope falls away, his arms finally free.
"That was..." He doesn't have the words, doesn't have the courage to name the emotions roiling inside him.
"It was," she agrees, her eyes dark with unspoken secrets.
She climbs off him, and Sylus misses her immediately, the loss of her weight on him making him feel suddenly cold.
"Don't go," he says, sitting up, his hands reaching for her.
She's a terrible woman, and he doesn't care. All he cares about is holding her, touching her, being near her.
"I'm not going anywhere," she says, a wicked smile curling her lips.
She pulls a silk robe from a chair beside the bed, and slips it on, the fabric clinging to her curves.
Sylus sits up, his body protesting, his muscles stiff and sore. It's the good kind of ache, the kind he'll wear like a badge of honor, a reminder of their encounter.
"What are you thinking?" she asks, her eyes searching his face.
"I'm not sure," he admits, rubbing his wrists where the ropes had left marks. "I'm not usually one to indulge in this sort of thing."
"I'm flattered," she says, her lips curling into a smirk.
"Is it strange that I feel... different?" he asks, trying to put words to the unfamiliar feelings swirling inside him.
"Different how?"
"Like I've been broken open."
She looks at him, her eyes full of understanding.
"Sometimes, it takes being shattered to finally see ourselves clearly," she says, her voice soft.
"It's not a comfortable feeling," he says, his jaw tight.
"No," she agrees, her hand reaching out, her fingers grazing his cheek. "It's not."
Her touch is like a balm, soothing the ache in his chest.
"Stay," he says, his hand catching hers, holding her close.
"I told you," she says, her lips curving in a smile. "I'm not going anywhere."
There's a promise in her words, a promise that goes beyond tonight. And despite his better judgment, Sylus finds himself wanting to believe her.
"Come," she says, her fingers intertwining with his. "Let's get cleaned up."
She leads him into the bathroom, the tile cool beneath his feet. She turns on the water, the shower steaming, and pulls him inside.
The hot water washes over them, easing the ache in his muscles, the tension in his body. Her hands are gentle, her touch tender, as she washes him, her fingers tracing the lines of his body. Sylus lets himself relax, lets himself enjoy her touch, the feeling of her hands on his skin.
"You're so beautiful," she murmurs, her eyes traveling over him. "Every inch of you."
Sylus has never felt self-conscious, but her words make him suddenly aware of himself, of the scars that mark his skin, the imperfections that he's always ignored.
"I don't like this," she says, her finger trailing over a long, jagged scar on his chest.
"That's the price you pay for the life I lead," he says, shrugging.
"To marr your skin so," she murmurs, pressing her lips to the scar. "It's a waste."
Sylus's chest tightens at her touch, her lips soft against his skin. He's a ruthless man, a cold-blooded killer, but she makes him feel human. She makes him feel.
She looks younger now that the water has washed the makeup from her face, her eyes no longer hidden behind heavy shadows and kohl. Her lips no longer red with lipstick, her hair no longer styled in perfection.
She's stripped bare, both literally and figuratively, and Sylus feels the same.
"I want to keep you," she says, her hands cupping his face, her eyes boring into his.
"Keep me?"
"As mine. My own."
Sylus laughs, the sound sharp, the taste bitter. "I'm not a pet, Viper."
"I didn't say you were." Her nails dig into his skin, and her eyes burn with unspoken desire. "I'm saying I want to keep you. That I want you. That I'm not done with you. Not by a long shot."
"And if I want to be the one doing the keeping?"
"Vipers bite."
"That's okay," he says, pulling her closer, his hand splayed against her lower back. "I like it when you bite me."
She laughs, the sound echoing off the tile, and Sylus can't help but grin.
She presses herself against him, her skin slick with water, her eyes dark with desire.
"Next time," she says, her fingers tangling in his hair, "I think I'll have you on your knees."
A shiver of anticipation runs down his spine, despite the heat of the water. Next time. The promise of it, the thought of more.
He's going to have to thank Luke for his misguided plan. Without his meddling, he never would have found himself here, naked and wet, a viper coiled around him. The thought makes him laugh.
"What's so funny?" she asks, her eyes narrowing.
"Nothing," he says, leaning in, his lips grazing her jaw. "Just thinking that Luke may be smarter than I give him credit for."
"Oh?"
"This was his idea, after all," he says, his hand cupping her ass, his fingers sliding between her legs.
"Mmm," she murmurs, her eyes fluttering shut, her breath catching.
She's slick with soap, the water running down her body, the steam billowing around them. Sylus feels like he's in a dream, a haze of heat and desire.
"Maybe he should join us," she suggests, her hips rocking against his hand.
Sylus growls, his fingers tightening on her ass.
He lifts one leg, hooking it around his hip, and then pushes her back against the cool tile wall, her breath hissing through her teeth. He slides another finger inside her, his thumb circling her clit, her pussy hot and tight around him.
"I don't share," he says, his teeth nipping her neck. "Not with anyone. Not even Luke and Kieran."
She arches against him, her fingers clawing his back, her nails leaving marks.
"Good," she says, her voice low and hungry. "Because I'm not good at sharing, either."
He kisses her, his lips fierce, his tongue claiming hers. She kisses him back, her body pressed against him, her teeth nipping his bottom lip.
Sylus groans, his cock aching, his fingers thrusting into her.
She cries out, her body shuddering against him, her pussy clenching around his fingers. She's beautiful, her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent cry. Sylus can't tear his eyes away from her, can't stop watching her come apart.
It's a rush, a heady, powerful feeling, and he wants more. He wants to see her fall apart again, to watch her shatter in his arms.
He moves his fingers faster, his thumb rubbing her clit, and she gasps, her hips bucking against him. She's sensitive, her body trembling, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Sylus," she moans, her nails digging into his shoulders.
"I'm here," he says, his lips trailing along her jaw.
She's close, her body tensing, her pussy gripping his fingers. Sylus can't tear his eyes away from her, can't stop watching as she tips over the edge.
She's a sight to behold, her skin flushed, her eyes wild, her body writhing against him.
"You're beautiful," he says, his lips brushing hers. "So fucking beautiful."
Her breath catches, her body shaking, and then she comes, her nails raking down his back, her teeth sinking into his shoulder. She draws blood, the pain mixing with the pleasure, and Sylus can't get enough.
He kisses her, his tongue claiming hers, his hand tangling in her hair. He's still hard, his cock aching, his body desperate for release.
"Fuck me," she gasps, her legs wrapping around his hips.
Sylus doesn't need to be asked twice. He grabs her hips, lifting her, and then pushes inside her, the feel of her making his breath catch. She's tight, her pussy stretching around him, the feel of her making him dizzy. It takes a moment, the fit snug, and then he's buried inside her, his cock buried to the hilt.
She cries out, her head falling back against the wall, her nails digging into his shoulders.
"Sylus," she groans, her body quivering around him.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asks, his voice hoarse, his body trembling with restraint.
"No," she gasps, her legs tightening around his hips. "Don't you dare stop."
Sylus doesn't need any further encouragement. He starts moving, his cock sliding in and out of her, her body squeezing him tight. She's hot and wet and perfect, and Sylus knows he's not going to last long.
"Fuck, you feel good," he growls, his hips rocking against hers.
He can't get enough of her, can't get deep enough. He wants to crawl inside her, to bury himself within her and drown in the feeling.
"Harder," she gasps, her fingers tangling in his hair, tugging his head back.
He obliges, his cock slamming into her, her body clenching around him.
"Yes," she moans, her breath hot against his neck. "Just like that."
Her legs are wrapped around his hips, her body arched against him, her heels digging into his ass. He's buried inside her, his cock buried to the hilt, the feel of her making him crazy. He can feel her cervix, the tip of his cock bumping against it, the sensation making his balls tighten with the need to paint her insides with his seed. To mark her, to claim her. She'd look good pregnant, her belly swollen, her tits heavy with milk. He'd give her a dozen children if she wanted, fill her up and fuck her until her womb was overflowing with his cum.
He groans, his cock throbbing inside her, her body squeezing him tight.
"Are you gonna come for me?" she purrs, one hand cupping his cheek, her thumb grazing his bottom lip.
"I'm trying not to," he admits, his teeth grazing her earlobe.
"Why not?"
"Because once I do, it'll be over."
She laughs, a soft, throaty sound. "You can't stay inside me forever, Sylus."
"Watch me," he says, kissing her fiercely.
She kisses him back, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her hips grinding against him. She's so close, the tension building in her body, her pussy clenching around his cock. Sylus wants to prolong it, to draw it out.
But he's on the edge too, his body trembling with restraint.
"Stubborn man," she murmurs, her eyes half-lidded with desire. "I guess I'll just have to make you come."
Sylus opens his mouth to protest, but her pussy clenches around him, the pressure too much, and then he's lost, his climax crashing over him. His body shakes, his hips bucking, his cock spilling inside her.
"Fuck," he groans, his head falling forward, his forehead resting against hers. "You're a fucking menace."
"I know," she says, her lips curling in a smile.
She kisses him, her lips soft and warm, and Sylus can't help but sink into her touch.
The water is starting to cool, and Sylus knows they'll have to leave the shower soon, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to let go of her, doesn't want to break the spell.
"Come on," she says, her voice soft. "Let's dry off and get warmed up."
Sylus nods, his arms loosening around her.
He helps her out of the shower, the floor cold beneath his feet. She wraps herself in a towel, and he does the same, the cotton soft against his skin.
"You can stay here tonight," she says, her hand trailing down his arm. "If you want."
Sylus hesitates. He should say no. He should leave. But he doesn't.
"I'd like that," he says, following her into the bedroom.
"Good," she says, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
The room is dark, the only light coming from the city outside. She crosses to the windows, drawing the curtains closed. Sylus watches her, his eyes tracing the lines of her body.
She's beautiful, her skin glowing in the dim light, her hair tousled and damp. She slips into bed, the covers sliding over her bare skin.
"Are you just going to stand there?" she asks, her voice low.
Sylus moves towards the bed, his hands reaching for the towel around his waist. It falls to the floor, his clothes discarded nearby.
He slides into bed beside her, the sheets cool against his skin.
She rolls over, her face inches from his, her eyes searching his.
"You're a strange woman," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw.
"You're not exactly normal yourself," she replies, her lips curling in a smile.
"True." He can't help but smile back, his hand cupping her cheek. "You make me... feel things I haven't felt before."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"I'm not sure."
"What do I make you feel?"
"Like I'm walking on a knife's edge," he admits, his thumb grazing her lips. "Like I'm freefalling and can't catch myself."
She kisses his thumb, her tongue flicking across the pad.
"What scares you more?" she asks, her fingers trailing down his chest. "The fall? Or what's waiting for you at the bottom?"
"Both."
"You don't seem like the type to scare easily."
"You bring out the worst in me," he says, his fingers tangling in her hair.
"I'm honored," she says, her eyes glittering in the dark.
She kisses him, her lips soft and sweet. Sylus closes his eyes, losing himself in the feel of her.
In this moment, with her body pressed against his, her lips moving against his, he feels something he hasn't felt in a long time.
Peace.
But he knows it won't last. This is temporary, a fleeting moment of weakness.
"Don't think," she whispers, her lips brushing his ear.
He doesn't.
He closes his eyes, letting himself get lost in the feel of her.
It's just one night, he tells himself. One night, and then he'll go back to being the man he was.
But as he pulls her close, his lips finding hers in the dark, Sylus knows it's a lie.