Page 61 of Dual

“What’s the matter, love?” he murmurs against my skin, his Irish accent thicker than usual. “Cat got your tongue? You’re usually more demanding by now.”

I feel a flicker of panic. I need to be better at this. More convincing. I can’t let him realize it’s me, or he’ll pull back. He’ll stop.

I slide my hands into his hair and yank, just hard enough to make his eyes flash. “Fuck me, Donny,” I demand, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. “I’ve been thinking about your cock all day.”

His eyes darken further, and he grinds against me, letting me feel the hard length of him through his boxers. “That right?” He catches my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. “You know the rules, kitten. You ask for it nicely.”

Kitten? My brain short-circuits. I’ve never heard him use pet names before. But no, that’s not true. I just haven’t heard him use them since we first reconnected when he bought me at the auction.

“Please,” I whisper, then remember who I’m supposed to be. I arch against him, deliberately provocative. “Please, Donny. Wreck me.”

Something savage flashes across his face, and he kisses me. Again, it’s nothing like our usual kisses. This is brutal, allteeth and tongue, devouring rather than savoring. I struggle to keep up, overwhelmed by the intensity and sheer need radiating from him.

I wait for the switch. For the light-headedness that means Mads is taking over.

But it doesn’t come.

There’s only wild need building in my belly and the overwhelming sensation of Domhn’s lips and his fingers grasping my hips, and oh—oh.

When he pulls back, his pupils are blown wide, his breathing ragged. “I should make you wait,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. “After that stunt you pulled the other night.”

I freeze, dazed from his kisses. Stunt? What stunt? What did Mads do now?

“But you’re so pretty when you beg,” he continues, apparently not noticing my momentary confusion. “And I’m feeling generous tonight.”

He releases my wrists only to reach over to the bedside drawer, pulling out—oh god, the enormous dildo I found earlier this week.

My eyes widen, and a small, strangled sound escapes me. Surely now, if Mads is anywhere left inside me, she’ll appear.

Domhnall’s eyes snap to mine, a frown creasing his brow. “Problem?” he asks, and there’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. Testing.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to smirk the way Madswould. “Just wondering if you’re still up to the challenge of filling me up after that thing’s had its way with me.”

His answering grin is predatory. “Cheeky little brat,” he murmurs, running the toy down my body, between my breasts, over my stomach, before reaching the hem of my nightgown. I shiver. In fear? In anticipation?

“I think you need to be reminded who’s in charge.”

In one swift motion, he tears my nightgown up and over my head, leaving me bare beneath him. I should feel exposed, vulnerable, but all I feel is a rush of exhilaration.

This is happening.

I’m still here. I haven’t switched.

“Hands on the headboard,” he commands, and the authority in his voice makes me comply instantly.

As soon as my fingers wrap around the ornate wooden bars above my head, he’s moving, reaching under the bed and pulling out silken ropes I had no idea were there. Before I can process what’s happening, he’s binding my wrists to the headboard with practiced efficiency.

“Domhn,” I gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs. This is so far beyond anything I’ve experienced in so long, and even then, I didn’t really know who I waswhohewas to me.

“Color?” he asks, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s asking for a safeword check.

“Green,” I respond immediately, the word falling from my lips before I can think too hard about it.

His eyes soften for just a moment, a flash of tenderness that’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it. Then he’s all business again, testing the restraints to ensure they’re secure without being too tight.

I’m spread out on the bed, bared like a prize for him to do as he wishes with. I tremble with wanting.

“Good girl,” he praises, and something inside me melts at the approval in his voice.