Chapter 102 BOTH SIDES OF TEMPTATION PART 7

Chapter 102 BOTH SIDES OF TEMPTATION PART 7
When they slid over my chest, I lingered. My palms cupped my breasts gently before I let them drop away again. I bit my lip, pretending it was accidental, but then I did it again—deliberately this time. His eyes narrowed the slightest bit, a tiny shift, but I noticed. He noticed me noticing, and that alone made heat spread lower in my belly.
I ran my hands over my breasts in slow circles, the cool water making the skin tight and sensitive. When my fingers brushed over my nipples, they were already hard, pebbled points that ached for more. I gave one a soft pinch, testing myself, and a tiny gasp escaped me.
The sound echoed too loudly in the quiet forest.
I froze, my eyes darting back to him. He hadn’t moved an inch. He stood exactly where he had landed, his wings half-spread behind him, feathers shifting faintly in the night breeze. His face was unreadable, but his jaw clenched tight, and I swore I saw the tiniest rise and fall of his chest, deeper than before.
My cheeks burned, but I didn’t stop. If he could already read my thoughts, if he already knew my shame, then there was nothing left to hide. My lips parted as I let myself imagine what his touch would feel like—his large hands on my breasts instead of mine, his thumb rolling over my nipples instead of my fingers.
As if guided by that thought, my hand trailed lower. I let it skim over the curve of my waist, down my stomach, my skin twitching beneath my own touch. I hesitated when I reached the top of my thighs, glancing at him again. His golden stare pinned me in place.
My breath hitched.
Then, with a shaky exhale, I slid my hand between my legs.
The water was cool, but I was hot—burning hot. The contrast made me shudder as my fingers brushed over my clit. A sharp, aching spark went through me, forcing another gasp out of my mouth. I circled it slowly, my body tensing with each touch.
His gaze darkened. He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. His lips parted slightly, and I thought I saw his throat shift as if he swallowed something down.
I pressed harder, rubbing myself in small, needy circles. My thighs parted instinctively, giving myself more room. My breaths came faster, short and shaky.
The more I touched, the more I imagined his hands instead of mine. Big, strong fingers, rough and careful at the same time. Fingers that would know exactly how to play with me, how to drag the pleasure out of me until I couldn’t hold it back.
The thought alone made me moan softly, the sound spilling from me without permission. I slapped a wet hand over my mouth, but it was too late.
His wings twitched, feathers rustling faintly, and I knew—he had heard. He had felt it.
My other hand slid down, desperate, joining the first. I teased myself, slipping lower, fingers brushing my entrance. The water carried the tiny ripples of my movements, making the night feel louder, like the forest itself was listening.
When I finally pushed a finger inside, I almost cried out. My body clenched around it, tight and hot, my hips rising from the water on instinct. I pumped slowly, in and out, my walls dragging against the length of my finger. I added another, stretching myself, panting through the sharp sting and the building pleasure.
All the while, he watched. His golden eyes tracked every movement of my hand, every twitch of my body. His stare was so heavy I could almost feel it on my skin, like an invisible hand guiding me, urging me to go deeper, faster, harder.
And I obeyed.
My fingers plunged into my wetness again and again, faster, harder, my hips jerking up to meet them. The water rippled around me, my moans catching in my throat, echoing softly into the quiet forest. My body trembled so much it almost didn’t feel like mine anymore.
Heat coiled low inside me, tight and urgent, building until I couldn’t hold it back. I gasped for air, my head falling back, my wet hair sticking to my neck. His eyes never left me, and that alone made the ache sharper, hotter.
I thrust my fingers harder, curling them inside me, rubbing my clit with my thumb until I was shaking. The pleasure came suddenly and violently, slamming into me like a wave. My mouth opened in a silent cry as my body arched, trembling from head to toe, my fingers still moving as my climax ripped through me.
The world blurred. All I could hear was my heartbeat, loud and heavy, and the soft rush of water against my skin.
When the tremors finally stopped, I sagged, breathing hard, my fingers slipping from between my legs. I felt weak, empty, yet full of something I couldn’t name. Shame and hunger mixed inside me like tangled threads.
I pushed the hair out of my face and looked up. He still hadn’t moved. He stood there, wings spread behind him, golden eyes fixed on me like I was something he owned.
Since he wasn’t going to touch me, since he just stood there watching, I might as well go home. My body still felt shaky, but I rose slowly out of the stream, water dripping from my skin in thin lines. The cool air hit me, making me shiver.
I bent to pick up my dress from the ground, fingers brushing the fabric—
Stop.
The word slammed into my head, not through my ears but inside my skull. I froze. My back went stiff, my breath catching.
I turned slowly, my wet hair swinging around me, sticking to my arms. He hadn’t moved closer, but his golden eyes glowed brighter, like embers in the dark.
“Why?” I whispered, though I didn’t know if my lips even moved. “Why do you want me to stop?”
I should have been scared of him. I should have run. But I wasn’t. Something about him held me there, rooted me to the spot like his stare had turned my legs to stone.
He stepped closer. One slow, steady step after another, the sound of water dripping from his wings falling in time with my heartbeat. My fingers tightened on the fabric of my dress, but I didn’t move away.
He came closer still until the heat of his body reached mine, until his shadow fell over me. He smelled like rain and something sweet and wild, like flowers that only bloom at night.
He raised a hand, so big and strong it made me shiver just looking at it. But his touch, when it came, was soft. His palm brushed against my wet cheek, his thumb sweeping slowly under my eye.
His voice wasn’t spoken aloud, but it slid into my head again like a whisper. Why aren’t you afraid of me?