Page 14

Mandy

I sat on Thor's bed with my hands twisting in my lap, my heart doing its best impression of a jackhammer against my ribs. I could barely take the bedroom in. All I could focus on was the man himself as he stood before me, his massive frame blocking everything else from view, his deep voice washing over me as he explained exactly how this spanking would go.

"Ten strikes for your first time, princess," Thor said, his voice steady and calm, like he was discussing the weather instead of how he planned to discipline me. "I want to nip disobedience in the bud."

I nodded, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. We'd discussed this—my need for structure, for someone to hold me accountable. Thor had let me know just how important it was that my work didn’t bleed into my personal life.

He was right, but that didn’t mean I was looking forward to the punishment.

"You remember the safe words?" he asked, his blue eyes locked on mine.

"Green for go ahead. Yellow to slow down. Red to stop everything," I recited, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be.

He nodded, approval warming his expression. "Good girl. And after, we'll have aftercare. I'll hold you, take care of you. Make sure you know you're safe."

His massive hand reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The simple gesture sent electricity down my spine. How could someone so intimidating, someone who made hardened bikers shit themselves with a look, be so gentle with me?

"This isn't about punishing you for disappointing me," he continued. "You could never truly disappoint me, Mandy. This is about giving you what you need."

Heat bloomed in my chest, spreading up my neck to my cheeks.

"Any questions before we start?" he asked.

I shook my head, then changed my mind. "Actually... how will I... I mean, should I..."

"Take off whatever makes you comfortable," he said, understanding my unasked question. "Leave on whatever doesn't. This first time, your bra and panties can stay on if you want."

I nodded, grateful for the option. He hadn't seen me completely naked yet. My fingers trembled as I reached for the hem of my t-shirt.

"You don't have to do this," Thor said, his voice soft. "We can wait."

I looked up at him, at those intense blue eyes that saw too much. "I want to," I said, and I meant it. The nervousness fluttering in my stomach was tangled up with something else, something hungrier.

I pulled my shirt over my head, letting it drop beside me on the bed. Thor's eyes darkened as they swept over me, lingering on the simple white bra I wore. Nothing fancy, no lace or satin. Just plain cotton.

"Beautiful," he murmured, and the raw appreciation in his voice made me believe him.

My jeans were next, requiring an awkward shimmy on the bed to get them past my hips. I felt clumsy, ungraceful, but the way Thor watched me—like I was performing the most elegant striptease he'd ever seen—gave me courage.

When I was down to just my underwear, I stopped, suddenly self-conscious about the stretch marks on my thighs, the softness of my belly. "Is this okay?" I asked.

Thor's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "More than okay," he said, his voice rougher now. "You're fucking perfect, princess."

The nickname sent a shiver through me. It felt like a crown. Like he was elevating me to something precious.

"What now?" I asked, hating how breathless I sounded.

"Now I sit, and you lay across my lap," he said, moving to take a seat beside me on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight. "Come here."

I moved slowly, unsure exactly how to position myself. He helped, his big hands guiding me until I was draped over his thighs, my ass in the air, my face turned to the side against the comforter. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and weirdly safe all at once.

His hand came to rest on my lower back, warm and heavy. "You comfortable?" he asked.

I nodded against the bedding, then remembered he wanted verbal confirmation. "Yes," I said. "I'm okay."

"Remember, you can say yellow or red anytime. No questions asked, no judgment." His thumb rubbed small circles against my spine. "And if you can't remember the words, just say stop. I'll listen. I promise."

That promise, delivered in his deep, serious voice, melted something inside me.

"Are you ready, princess?" he asked, his hand still making those soothing circles on my back.

Was I? My heart was racing, my palms were sweaty, and I was draped half-naked across the lap of a man who could probably bench press a motorcycle. But underneath the nerves was a steady pulse of yes, please, finally.

I turned my head, looking up at him over my shoulder. His face was tight with restraint, but his eyes—God, his eyes were hungry. "Green," I said. "I'm sure."

His hand moved from my back, hovering over my ass. "I’ll count them for you," he promised. "Just remember your words."

I nodded, facing forward again, gripping the edge of the mattress. I had no idea what to expect. Would it hurt? Would I cry? Would I hate it? Would I love it? The questions swirled in my head like a tornado, but underneath them all was a strange, buzzing anticipation.

I felt his hand withdraw, heard the slight shift in his breathing, and braced myself.

The first strike caught me completely off guard. It wasn't the pain—though there was pain, a sharp sting that bloomed across my right cheek. It was the shock of contact, the deliberate way Thor's hand connected with my flesh. The sound came first—a crisp crack that seemed to echo in the quiet room—then the sting, then a strange, spreading warmth that rippled outward. I gasped, my body tensing, even as Thor's deep voice rumbled above me: "One."

Before I could fully process what had happened, his palm was caressing the spot he'd just struck, soothing the heat with gentle circles. The contrast was jarring—pain followed immediately by comfort. My brain scrambled to make sense of it.

"Color?" he asked quietly.

"Green," I answered, surprising myself with how quickly the word came. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, but beneath the surprise was curiosity. What would the next one feel like?

I didn't have to wait long. His hand lifted, then came down on my left cheek this time. The sound was just as sharp, the sting perhaps a little more intense since I knew what was coming. I flinched but didn't cry out.

"Two," Thor counted, his voice level and calm. Again, the immediate follow-up of his palm soothing the spot he'd spanked, rubbing away the worst of the sting and leaving that same spreading warmth behind.

By the third strike, I was starting to understand the rhythm. The anticipation of the blow. The sharp crack and bloom of pain. The gentle, soothing caress. The way each touch, harsh or gentle, sent ripples of sensation through my entire body. It was like he was activating nerve endings I never knew I had.

"Three." His voice was steady, but his hand on my ass lingered longer this time, kneading the flesh he'd just struck. "You're doing so well, princess."

The praise sent an unexpected thrill through me. I'd always been a good girl—good grades, good job, good daughter. But being good for Thor felt different. It felt so real.

The fourth strike was harder, making me jerk against his lap. "Four," he counted, then asked, "Color?"

"Green," I said again, and this time there was a catch in my voice that had nothing to do with pain. Something was happening to me. Each impact sent waves of sensation not just across my ass but radiating through my whole body. Including between my legs, where a heavy, insistent pulse had begun.

"Five." The fifth strike was as hard as the fourth, but I was ready for it now. I didn't just endure it—I found myself leaning into it, almost pushing my ass up to meet his hand. What the hell was happening to me?

Thor must have noticed the change in my posture because his hand lingered after this stroke, fingers dipping slightly lower, skating along the crease where my thigh met my ass. Not touching anything intimate, but close enough that my breath caught.

"Halfway there," he murmured, voice deeper now. "You're taking this so well, princess. I bet you’ll never disobey me again."

I felt myself melt at the praise, like butter on a hot skillet. The initial shock and nervousness was giving way to something else—a floaty, dreamy feeling where the pain didn't register as pain anymore. It was just sensation, intensity, like a strong drink burning down your throat but leaving you warm and loose afterward.

“Never, Daddy,” I whispered.

The sixth blow landed, and I heard a small sound escape me—not a cry of pain, but something needier. "Six," Thor counted, and was it my imagination or was his voice rougher now?

His hand lingered after this strike, rubbing slow circles on my heated skin. I felt myself sinking deeper into that strange, trancelike state. The rest of the world fell away until there was only this—only Thor's lap under me, his hand on my body, the push and pull of pain and pleasure.

"Seven." The next blow seemed to light up every nerve ending, and this time I definitely moaned. I felt wetness between my legs, my body responding in ways I hadn't anticipated. I should have been embarrassed, but in that floaty space, nothing seemed to matter except the next touch, the next sensation.

"You're doing so fucking perfect," Thor praised, his hand now openly massaging my ass, which had to be pink, maybe even red by now. The thought of how I must look—draped across his lap, ass raised and colored from his hand—sent another rush of heat through me.

The eighth strike was the hardest yet, landing right at the fullest part of my right cheek. I yelped, but it wasn't from pain—at least, not entirely. It was from the jolt of pleasure that shot straight between my legs.

"Eight," Thor counted, and now I could definitely hear the strain in his voice. "Two more, princess. Can you take two more for me?"

"Yes," I gasped, and it came out embarrassingly needy. "Yes, please."

His hand stilled on my back. "Please?" he repeated, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Fuck, you are something else."

I should have been mortified. Was I actually begging for more? But my body had taken over, operating on pure instinct now. And every instinct was screaming for more of his touch, more of this swirling mix of pain and pleasure that was making me dizzy.

"Nine." The next strike fell, and this time I definitely pushed up to meet it, a breathy moan escaping me. The sound seemed to affect Thor because I felt him shift underneath me, adjusting his position. That's when I became aware of the hard ridge beneath his jeans, pressing against my stomach. He was aroused by this too.

Knowing that—feeling the physical evidence of his desire—pushed me deeper into that heady space. I was pleasing him. He was enjoying this as much as I was. The realization was intoxicating.

"Last one," he said, his voice tight with restraint. "Ready?"

I didn't just nod this time. I arched my back, presenting myself shamelessly. "Green," I breathed. "So green."

His hand came down for the tenth and final strike, the hardest yet, right across both cheeks. "Ten," he growled, and the sound of his voice—so primal, so hungry—sent a shudder through me.

As his palm connected, I felt my hips begin a subtle rocking motion against his thigh. I couldn't help it. The pressure, the heat, the incredible intensity of sensation—it all combined into a throbbing need between my legs that demanded attention.

Thor's hand remained on my ass, not moving away this time but pressing, kneading the heated flesh. "So perfect for me," he murmured, voice rough with desire. "Such a good girl, taking your discipline so well."

I whimpered, the praise hitting something deep inside me. My hips continued their subtle movement, seeking friction against his hard thigh. I should have been embarrassed—I was basically humping his leg like a horny teenager—but I was too far gone for shame. There was only this building pressure, this desperate need for release.

"Thor," I gasped, not even sure what I was asking for.

His hand slid down, still not touching anywhere truly intimate, but close enough that I could feel the heat of his palm through the thin cotton of my panties. "What do you need, princess?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that I could feel vibrating through his body.

I didn't know how to answer. I'd never been in this state before—this strange halfway place between discipline and arousal, where my mind was floating and my body was on fire. All I knew was that I needed more. More contact, more pressure, more of him.

"I don't . . . I can't . . ." I panted, words escaping me as my body continued its unconscious movement against his thigh.

"Shh," he soothed, his hand moving in slow circles on my lower back. "It's okay. Whatever you're feeling is okay."

But it didn't feel okay. It felt overwhelming, like standing on the edge of a cliff. The pressure between my legs had built to an almost painful point, and every slight movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through my system.

Thor's hand continued its gentle circles on my back, occasionally dipping lower to brush the upper curve of my ass. Each touch sent another jolt of electricity through me, pushing me closer to that edge. My small sounds of need grew more frequent, more desperate, my hips rocking more obviously against his thigh.

"That's it," he encouraged, voice tight with his own restraint. "Let go for me, princess. I've got you."

His permission was all I needed. The coil of tension inside me wound tighter and tighter, and I found myself shamelessly grinding against his thigh, chasing the pressure I needed. I was making sounds I'd never heard from my own throat before—needy, desperate little moans that would have mortified me if I'd been in my right mind.

But I wasn't in my right mind. I was somewhere else entirely—somewhere where nothing existed except Thor's strength beneath me, his hand on my back, and the building, insistent pleasure that was about to break over me like a wave.

It hit without warning, a sudden, overwhelming orgasm that crashed through me like a tidal wave. I cried out, my back arching sharply as pleasure exploded between my legs and radiated outward. My fingers clutched desperately at his jean-clad leg, nails digging in as my body convulsed with release.

"Fuck," I gasped, the word barely recognizable through my broken moan. My hips bucked against his thigh of their own accord, grinding down to extend the impossible pleasure that was ripping through me.

Thor's massive hand pressed firmly against my lower back, grounding me as I rode out the wave. I felt the tremors of my climax begin to subside, little aftershocks of pleasure rippling through me, leaving me limp and disoriented across his lap.

As the intensity receded, another feeling flooded in to replace it: mortification.

Holy shit. I'd just come. From a spanking. Without being touched anywhere near my pussy. Sprawled across Thor's lap like some kind of . . . what? What did you call someone who got off on being disciplined?

My face flamed hotter than my ass, and I buried it against the bedding, unable to look at him. What must he think of me? This wasn't normal. People didn't orgasm from being spanked. Did they?

"Mandy," Thor's voice was soft but commanding. "Look at me, princess."

I shook my head against the bed, too embarrassed to face him. His hand moved from my lower back to stroke my hair, gentle as could be.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he continued, his fingers carding through my hair. "That was fucking beautiful."

Beautiful? I wanted to disappear into the mattress. This wasn't what we'd agreed to. He was supposed to discipline me, not watch me have some kind of weird pain-gasm while humping his leg like a dog in heat.

I felt him shift beneath me, strong hands moving to my waist as he carefully turned me over. I let him maneuver me, still not meeting his eyes as he gathered me into his arms and settled me sideways across his lap, cradling me against his broad chest. My ass stung as it made contact with his thigh, a reminder of what had just happened.

One large hand cupped my chin, tilting my face up. "Look at me," he said again, this time with a note of steel in his voice that brooked no argument.

Slowly, reluctantly, I lifted my gaze to his. I expected to see disgust, or maybe amusement at my expense. What I saw instead took my breath away.

Thor's blue eyes were dark with desire, pupils blown wide. There was no judgment there, no mockery. Only heat and something that looked a lot like awe.

"Do you have any idea how fucking hot that was?" he asked, his voice rough.

I blinked, confused by his reaction. "You're not . . . grossed out?"

He let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan. "Grossed out? Jesus, princess. I'm so turned on right now I can barely think straight."

As if to prove his point, he shifted slightly, and I felt the unmistakable ridge of his erection pressing against my hip. Hard evidence, so to speak, that he'd enjoyed the show.

"But it's not normal," I protested weakly. "People don't usually . . ."

"You think I’m into normal ?" he interrupted, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. "Normal is boring. What just happened between us? That was special. Rare. A gift."

A gift. I let the word sink in, trying to see what had happened from his perspective. I'd been completely vulnerable, completely at his mercy. And in that vulnerability, my body had responded in the most honest way possible. There was no faking an orgasm like that, no pretending.

"I didn't know that could happen," I admitted, my voice small.

His expression softened, the hunger in his eyes tempered by tenderness. "Neither did I. But I'm glad it did." His hand moved to cup my cheek. "You were so beautiful, Mandy. So open. So responsive. So . . . mine."

That last word sent a shiver through me, a fresh wave of heat that had nothing to do with my stinging backside. Mine. Like I belonged to him. And in that moment, sprawled across his lap, having just come harder than I ever had in my life from nothing but his hand on my ass and his voice in my ear, it was hard to argue with that assessment.

"You're not mad?" I asked, needing the reassurance.

Thor's lips quirked in a half-smile that made my heart skip. "Mad that the woman I'm crazy about just had a mind-blowing orgasm because of something I did to her? Yeah, I'm fucking furious."

The sarcasm broke through the last of my embarrassment, and I felt a reluctant smile tug at my lips. "When you put it that way . . ."

His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. "The only thing that matters is how you feel. Was it good for you?"

Was it good? It was earth-shattering. Life-altering. I'd never experienced anything like it—not just the physical pleasure, but the emotional release that came with it. The feeling of surrendering completely to someone else's control and finding freedom in that surrender.

"Yes," I whispered. "It was . . . I don't even have words."

He nodded, satisfaction evident in the slight upturn of his lips. "Good. Because that's what this is about. Your pleasure. Your needs." His fingers tightened slightly in my hair. "I told you from the beginning—this isn't about punishment. It's about giving you what you need."

I stared up at him, suddenly overwhelmed by how thoroughly he seemed to understand me. He'd known what I needed before I did. Had seen parts of me I hadn't even recognized in myself.

As I nestled against Thor's chest, the afterglow of my unexpected orgasm still humming through my veins, I became increasingly aware of something else: the rigid line of his arousal pressed against my hip. It wasn't subtle—nothing about Thor was subtle—and the knowledge that he was this hard, this turned on just from spanking me, sent a renewed surge of heat between my legs. I shifted slightly, testing the waters, and felt him tense beneath me, his breath catching in a way that made me feel suddenly, gloriously powerful.

He was aroused because of me. Because of my reactions. Because of what we'd shared.

His hand continued its soothing strokes along my back, but there was an edge to his movements now, a tightly coiled restraint that hadn't been there before. Thor was holding back, focusing on my comfort rather than his own need. The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning—he was taking care of me, putting my needs first, even when he was clearly aching for release.

I'd never had that before. Never had someone who cared more about my pleasure than their own. The thought made my chest tight with emotion and ignited a fierce determination within me. I wanted to give back. Needed to.

"Let me," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could overthink them. I pulled back from his embrace, meeting his questioning gaze.

"Let you what?" he asked, a hint of gravel in his deep voice.

Instead of answering, I slid from his lap in one fluid motion, ignoring the sting as my sensitive ass brushed against the rough denim of his jeans. I knelt between his spread legs, looking up at him through my lashes, my hands resting tentatively on his thighs.

His blue eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he realized my intention. "Mandy," he started, a warning note in his voice. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," I interrupted, my voice stronger than I expected. My fingers traced small patterns on his jean-clad thighs, inching closer to the obvious bulge straining against his zipper. "Please."

Thor's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he fought for control. He was giving me an out, I realized. Making sure I didn't feel obligated. It only made me want to please him more.

I looked up, summoning my courage, and played my trump card. "Please, Daddy?"

The effect was immediate and electric. Thor's entire body went rigid, his hands fisting in the bedding on either side of him. A low, primal sound escaped him—not quite a growl, not quite a groan, but something in between that made goosebumps race across my skin.

"Fuck," he muttered, the single syllable packed with so much raw hunger it made me tremble. "You know what that does to me."

I did. I'd discovered the effect of that particular word on him accidentally, during a heated make-out session when it had slipped out without my meaning it to. His reaction had been immediate and intense, and I'd filed it away for when I needed the nuclear option.

Like now.

My fingers reached for his belt buckle, suddenly clumsy with anticipation. The heavy metal resisted my efforts, and I fumbled with it, my confidence wavering.

Thor's large hands covered mine, steadying them. "Let me," he echoed my earlier words, his voice rough.

Together, we worked at his belt, then the button of his jeans, and finally the zipper. Each small victory revealed more of the thin cotton of his black boxer briefs, stretched taut over his impressive erection. My mouth went dry at the sight, a mix of anticipation and nervousness fluttering in my stomach.

He lifted his hips slightly, helping as I tugged his jeans down his thighs, revealing more of those powerful legs I'd just been sprawled across. The briefs came next, and I hesitated only a moment before drawing them down as well.

His cock sprang free, and I couldn't contain my small gasp of appreciation. Thor was as impressive here as he was in every other aspect of his physicality—long and thick, flushed dark with arousal, a bead of moisture already gathered at the tip. The sight of him, so hard and ready because of me, sent a renewed pulse of desire through my core.

"Jesus," I breathed, reaching out with tentative fingers to trace along his length. "You're huge."

A strained chuckle escaped him. "Don't sound so surprised, princess. I'm six-four. Everything's proportional."

I wrapped my fingers around him, testing his girth, marveling at how hot he felt against my palm, how the skin was like velvet over steel. "Modest, too," I quipped, gaining confidence from his reaction as my touch drew a hiss of pleasure from between his clenched teeth.

My initial hesitancy gave way to determination as I began to explore him with growing boldness. I stroked up his length, thumb swiping over the sensitive head, spreading the moisture gathered there. Thor's breathing changed, becoming deeper, more ragged, encouraging me to continue.

"That feels so good," he murmured, one hand coming to rest gently on the back of my neck. Not pushing, not directing, just maintaining contact. "You have beautiful hands."

The compliment sent a warm flush through me. I increased the pressure slightly, watching his face for reactions, learning what he liked from the subtle tightening around his eyes, the catch in his breath, the flex of his fingers against my neck.

"I want to taste you," I said, surprising myself with my boldness. But it was true—I wanted to feel him in my mouth, wanted to give him even a fraction of the pleasure he'd given me.

Thor's eyes, which had drifted half-closed as I stroked him, snapped open at my words. The blue was almost completely swallowed by black now, his desire written plainly across his face.

"You don't have to," he said again, but the strain in his voice betrayed how much he wanted me to.

"I know," I replied simply. Then, maintaining eye contact, I lowered my head and took him into my mouth.

The taste was clean and masculine, the weight of him heavy on my tongue. I couldn't take much at first, just the head and a bit more, but Thor's reaction made it clear that was more than enough. His fingers tightened reflexively against my neck, a strangled groan tearing from his throat.

"Fuck, Mandy," he breathed, his voice wrecked. "Your mouth—Christ."

His response emboldened me. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking gently as I pulled back, then took him a little deeper on the next downstroke. My hand wrapped around what I couldn't fit in my mouth, working in tandem, finding a rhythm that had Thor's thighs tensing beneath my free hand.

There was power in this act, I realized. Kneeling between his powerful legs, taking him apart with nothing but my mouth and hands—it was its own form of control. Different from the surrender I'd experienced earlier, but no less intoxicating.

Thor's hand moved from my neck to my hair, fingers tangling in the strands but not pulling, not directing. Just holding on, like he needed an anchor in the storm of sensation.

"So perfect," he praised, voice strained. "So fucking beautiful. Look at you, taking my cock so well."

His words sent a thrill through me, pride and arousal mingling in my veins. I redoubled my efforts, taking him deeper, using my tongue to trace the sensitive underside of his shaft, learning what made his breath hitch and his fingers tighten in my hair.

Time seemed to blur as I lost myself in the act. There was something meditative about it—the rhythmic bob of my head, the taste and feel of him on my tongue, the sound of his labored breathing and occasional deep groans. It wasn't just a physical act; it was an offering. A thank you for the care he'd shown me, the boundaries he'd respected, the pleasure he'd given.

"Mandy," Thor warned after what could have been minutes or hours, his voice tight with restraint. "I'm getting close."

I understood he was giving me an out, a chance to pull away. Instead, I looked up, meeting his gaze deliberately as I took him as deep as I could, making my intentions clear.

"Fuck," he groaned, the tendons in his neck standing out as he fought for control. "You sure?"

I hummed my assent around him, the vibration making him curse again, louder this time. His hand in my hair tightened fractionally, not painful but definite.

"So good for me," he praised, voice breaking. "So perfect, taking care of your daddy like this."

The word—his word for himself—sent a renewed surge of wetness between my thighs. I moaned around him, the sound apparently pushing him closer to the edge.

"Close," he warned again, hips starting to move in small, restrained thrusts. "So close, princess."

I increased my pace, hand and mouth working together, determined to push him over that edge, to give him even a fraction of the release he'd given me. His breathing grew more ragged, his thighs tensing under my free hand.

"Mandy—fuck—I'm—" The broken warning was all he managed before I felt him pulse against my tongue, hot and salty as he came with a deep, guttural groan that sounded almost like pain.

I swallowed without hesitation, keeping my lips sealed around him until the last pulse subsided, until his hand in my hair gentled from its tight grip to soothing strokes. Only then did I pull away, looking up to find Thor staring down at me with an expression that could only be described as awe.

"C'mere," he rasped, reaching for me, pulling me up and into his arms with an easy strength that still managed to take my breath away. He arranged me on his lap, mindful of my still-sensitive ass, tucking me against his chest like something precious.

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Thank you," he said, with a sincerity that made my chest ache. "That was . . . fuck, there aren't words."

A small smile tugged at my lips. "I know the feeling."

His answering smile was warm, almost tender, but there was still heat in his eyes. Still hunger. Like what we'd shared had only whetted his appetite rather than satisfying it.

"You're something else, you know that?" he said, his thumb tracing the outline of my lips, still sensitive from what I'd just done.

The tender gesture, combined with the intensity of his gaze, sent another pulse of desire through me. Despite the orgasm earlier, despite the emotional rollercoaster of the past hour, I wanted more. Wanted him. All of him.

As if reading my thoughts, Thor's hand slid from my face down to my neck, then lower, skimming over the swell of my breast through my bra. "Tell me what you want, princess," he said, voice dropping to that register that made me shiver. "Anything."

I didn't hesitate. "You," I said simply. "All of you."

“In that case,” he replied, “there’s something I need to show you.”