Page 42 of Dual

Then another lands. And another.

It's not the hardest flogger. Not the softest either. But the steady, rhythmic fire he's painting across my skin is a slow-building masterpiece of pain.

He knows what he's doing. He always knows.

The strokes grow sharper, the heat intensifying, and my body melts into it. I whimper, my breath coming in quick, desperate gasps.

Then—snap. A harder strike, dead center, making me yelp. Then another, perfectly mirrored on the opposite cheek.

By the time he's done, I'm wrecked, heaving for breath. My skin is flushed and burning.

"Damn it, Domhn," I pant, sweat beading on my brow. "I don't want to go into subspace. I just want you to fuck me."

He steps in close, his bare chest warm against my backbut for the chains, his cock—hard, hot, velvet—pressed against my sore, aching ass. All intentional.

"Are you safewording?" he asks, voice deceptively casual.

No. No, I'm not.

I exhale, shaking my head as my body shudders against his.

Domhn chuckles, the sound dark and full of promise.

"Then we're just getting started. What are you afraid of, love?" he whispers again, his voice low and husky, the deep tone that sinks into my bones and lives there. "It's me. You can trust me to carry anything. Everything."

And damn him, he knows exactly what he's doing, doesn't he?

I walked right into the trap, like the sex-starved idiot that I am.

Because, of course, Iwantto hand over everything I'm carrying. Of course, Iwantto let go. To give in. To sink into him and never have to bear the weight alone again.

I could release my secrets to him and be free. Truly free.

He would help me.

We'd fight whatever comes at us, side by side, and I could finally, finally rest.

Then his head drops onto my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin, and my heart breaks apart inside my chest.

"I'm afraid of all of this ending," I whisper. "I'm afraid of bad things coming. Like bad things always do. I don't get to be happy."

"Ah, love," he murmurs, voice thick, arms coming aroundme, wrapping me up, holding me like he can shield me from all the world and every bad thing in it.

And then—his cock slips between my legs from behind, the tip nudging right at my slick, swollen entrance.

I clench down on him instantly, trying to drag him deeper with just my body, with my need alone.

He rocks against me, teasing, holding me tighter, laying slow, deliberate kisses down the back of my neck, his teeth scraping just enough to make my breath catch.

"You think I'm not terrified too?" he whispers, voice rough, like this moment is clawing at him as much as it's clawing at me.

"You know where I come from. You know I never saw a bright day in my life before the day I met you."

But his words don't land the way he wants them to. Instead, they drive a knife between my ribs, splitting me open.

Because yeah, maybe his life wasn't great before he met me.

But the day he met me was the day he met my father.