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His large hands are suddenly on my cheeks, forcing my mouth open.

“Your tongue is red,” he snarls, sending a murderous glare at my cup of tea before moving to the fridge to get a small bottle of water.

I stretch my hand out, craving the sensation of fresh water on my burned skin, but Uri doesn’t give it to me. He unscrews the lid and then drinks it himself. Before I even realize what is happening he bends down, pries my lips apart, and then feeds me the cold water from his mouth to mine. His lips are warm and soft against mine while the metal hoop around the lower one feels cool, cooler than the water filling my mouth. It drips down my chin and neck, but I don’t care. The light stinging pain mixedwith his warm touch and wet mouth feel so damn perfect, my dick hardens.

He moves away, deep eyes scanning my face.

“More?” His raspy voice makes me swallow hard, and I can only nod while I look at his Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes another long sip.

He repeats the action two more times. His tongue strokes against mine, a heavy rub that makes my butthole clench eagerly around nothing. I feel an unbearable throbbing sensation in the pit of my stomach when he abruptly pulls away.

“You need to suck on some ice,” he states calmly.

Words elude me as I’m still processing what just happened.

Uri’s phone rings on the tabletop, making me jump with nerves. I see the name of one of his restaurants on the screen. As he picks up and talks composedly, I feel a sense of uneasiness crawling inside me. I’m about to pass out, while he cooly discusses lighting and tables.

I gesture to him that I’m going upstairs, and on unstable legs I get out, climb the stairs, and reach his bedroom. I close the door behind me and lean heavily against it.

What the hell was that? Uri is so…confusing. Every little word he tosses my way, the ways he stays close and does things for me…things like THIS! Why? Why did he do it? It means something, right? I’m crap at reading people’s behavior. I need an objective point of view, an expert in deciphering intentions, someone who knows Uri well, someone with a straightforward and unembellished approach. Lori. I need Lori.

Shit! I left my phone in the kitchen, and I have no strength left to face Uri again right now. Letting out a long sigh, I move toward my laptop. Echoes of lust and desire are twirling in my guts. My dick turns harder as I brush my fingers over my lips, recalling what it felt like to have Uri’s lips on mine once again.

I left my dildo at home, couldn’t pack it with Uri hovering over me. Should I get another one? I could send it to my office and then bring it here.

I look for the same website I bought my other one from. I open the page and see different models. It excites me, the memory of it inside me. I read somewhere that the first time could be painful if the bottom is not used to it. So I decided to give my body some prep while I was dating Trent—we never got that far, though. But I kept using it since it felt kind of good.

Should I buy a bigger one? And what’s that? My eyes are caught by a chain with two clamps at each end. Nipple clamps. My nipples respond instantly, turning as hard as rocks at the sight. And what’s a Dragon Skin Seven Piece Bondage Set? I read the small description:This fantasy-inspired ensemble invites you to explore the realm of power dynamics and intimate submission. Unveil an array of pleasures with this comprehensive set, featuring an eye mask, fully adjustable cuffs, hogtie restraints, and a whip for sensual discipline. Experience the art of submission.

My eyes focus on the whip and the restraints. And for a moment, I imagine myself diving into a dark world of thrilling, sensual submission. My whole body is shaken by a delicious shudder. It reminds me of that video I stumbled on a while ago. Two men enjoying BDSM sex. Leather cuffs, a blindfold, kneeling. I close my eyes as all the blood rushes down to my dick. My hand slowly moves toward it when I remember Uri is downstairs.

I quickly buy a slightly bigger dildo and close the laptop. Then I take a long shower, using thoughts of my ongoing research to deplete my erection. After donning an old t-shirt and a pair of soft pants, I slide under the sheets.

I fall asleep more quickly than I expected, and soon dream of someone spooning me. Wet lips caress my neck. Warm hands explore my chest and sides. A rough voice whispers deliciously filthy, possessive words in my ear. My aching cock remains untouched, but the grunts turn more savage as I feel a hard shaft rubbing between my cotton-clad ass cheeks.

When I wake up the next morning, I know I had a wet dream—my panties are a mess. There’s no sign of Uri, but the crumpled duvet on his side tells me he spent the night right next to me.

I can smell his scent on me.

four

SARIEL

I walk down the white hospital corridor. The silence is disrupted only by the sound of my heels hitting the epoxy floor—I regret wearing these shoes; they are pretty but not fit for a hospital. This is the coma patient wing, therefore the hushed atmosphere is the norm here.

I stop my advance as I see Ollie and Rague just outside Meg’s room. Ollie has his back against the wall, legs wrapped around my brother’s waist. Rague is looming over his husband without taking his attention away for even a second. His grip on Ollie’s throat is tight, but relaxed, his thumb smoothing slowly over the skin. Ollie’s body loosens further with every word Rague softly utters while tracking Ollie’s every reaction. Their lips move closer, and I suddenly avert my curious eyes from the intensely sensual exchange, giving the lovers some privacy.

“Hey, Sari!” Ollie calls out a moment later, making me turn to look at them again. He’s sliding down Rague’s body as he gestures me closer.

“Hi, guys. Everything okay?”

Rague nods; he’s not very talkative, but I like that about him.

“Did you like the lake house?” Ollie asks. I know Uri hired them to make the changes, he wouldn’t trust anybody else. Rague built and renovated all his restaurants.

“Love it! Thank you.” I smile at them, noticing how Ollie holds onto Rague’s bicep while lacing their fingers together.

“You should thank Uri. He’s been more insufferable than usual,” Rague mutters.