Chapter 17 -Avianna-
\-Avianna-
He doesn't touch me where I need it most.
Instead, his fingers wrap around my wrist where it rests limply against my thigh. His grip is firm, his hand large enough to cover mine completely, his thumb pressing into my racing pulse.
"This," he says, his voice scraping against my ear. "This is how you make it stop."
He pulls my hand downward until my knuckles brush against the damp heat of my inner thighs. A jolt of electricity snaps through the tether, his reaction to the wetness he can feel on my skin, even if he won't let himself look, won't let himself touch.
"You have to touch yourself, Avi," he says, the words jagged. "I can't. But I can guide you."
I try to pull my hand back, but he holds tight, dragging my fingers back across my abdomen, his fingers curling over mine.
"Lower," he rasps, the word dragging against my ear like rough velvet.
When my fingertips brush the damp, curling hair at the apex of my thighs, I gasp, my hips jerking instinctively away from the sensation.
"Don't run from it," he murmurs, his voice a rough against my ear. "It's the only way."
The words barely register over the roaring in my ears. He tightens his grip on my hand, a silent command that stills my flight reflex, and presses my fingers into the soaking heat of my sex. The contact is electric, a blinding shock that arches my back off his chest, a cry tearing from my throat as the hex surges in response to the touch.
"Gods," I gasp, my head falling back against his shoulder, my vision blurring white. "Caylix..."
"Stay with me," he urges, his voice a ragged anchor in the storm.
He shifts his hand, his fingers closing over mine. I can feel the tremor running through him, a vibration that matches the frantic pounding of my own heart. He is shaking with the effort to remain this detached, to be nothing more than a guide when every instinct he possesses is screaming at him to take over.
"Here," he breathes, the word rough against my ear. "Right here."
He guides my hand lower, the tip of my finger sliding through the slick, swollen heat until it finds the tight, desperate bundle of nerves begging for attention. The moment I make contact, a jolt of pure electricity arcs up my spine, ripping a sharp cry from my throat. My hips jerk upward, seeking more of the pressure, but he holds me firm, his arm locked like a steel band across my ribs.
"Press down," he instructs, his voice dropping an octave, dark and commanding. "Don't be gentle.
He pushes down on the back of my hand, forcing my finger to grind against the swollen, sensitive nub. I gasp, my back arching again off his chest, but there is nowhere to go. He holds me pinned, open and trapped against him.
"Move your hand," he commands. "Like this."
His grip is iron, forcing my hand into a rhythm that makes my entire body seize. He drives my fingers back and forth against the swollen nerves, pressing down hard, dragging a ragged moan from my throat.
"That's it," he breathes, the words hot against my sweat-slicked skin. "Don't stop, Avi."
The rhythm he forces upon me is devastating, a deliberate, grinding friction that steals the air from my lungs. My finger circles the swollen nerves under his guidance, every rotation sending a fresh shockwave through my tethered nerves. The heat is no longer just pooling; it’s a rising tide, cresting higher and higher with every pass of my hand.
"Harder," he rasps, his voice a low growl that vibrates against my spine. He presses down on my hand, increasing the pressure until I’m gasping, my head thrashing against his shoulder. "You're holding back, Avi. Let go."
"I can't," I sob, the sensation bordering on pain, so intense it whites out my vision. "It's too much."
"Yes, you can," he growls, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. "Stop fighting it. Let it break you."
The pressure builds, a coiling knot of heat so tight it feels like I might snap. My free hand claws at his forearm, nails digging into the hard muscle, but he doesn't flinch. He is an immovable object behind me, a wall of heat and strength holding me together while the world tears apart.
"Caylix," I gasp, my voice breaking on a sob. "I'm…I can't…"
"Breathe," he commands. "Just ride it out. Don't stop. Keep the pressure right there."
The coil inside me winds tighter, a hot, heavy knot that threatens to snap my spine. The friction is relentless. I am shaking violently, my slick thighs trembling against his, the sheer intensity of the sensation blurring the edges of my vision.
"Let go, Avi."
His voice is the only thing real in the storm. A rough, desperate growl against my ear that cuts through the white haze drowning my mind.
"Give in to it," he urges, his grip on my hand tightening, forcing my finger to grind down harder against the swollen, slick nerves. "I’ve got you. I won't let go. You’re safe with me."
The promise breaks something inside me. The coil winds impossibly tight, stretching me to the breaking point, until my very soul feels ready to snap.
"Now," his voice a dark rasp against my ear. "Let it take you."
The command is the catalyst.
My breath catches in my throat, followed by a sudden, blinding pressure that steals every thought, every fear, every ounce of shame. The world whites out. There is only the heat, the friction, and the iron grip of his hand locked over mine. The orgasm tears through me like a blade, hot and devastating.
My back bows off his chest, a scream ripping from my throat that is raw, ragged, and utterly broken.
"Gods…Caylix!"
The sound of his name on my lips breaks something inside him. I feel it through the tether just as the first wave crashes over me, not a wave, but a tsunami. It tears a ragged scream from me I don't recognize, my body seizing in his grip. My heels dig into the mattress, my back arching until I’m taut against him, the pleasure so intense it borders on agony, blinding and absolute.
I shatter.
I feel him flinch behind me, a sharp intake of breath that he barely manages to stifle. He holds me through it, his grip on my hand and waist unyielding, refusing to let me break apart even as the sensation shatters me into a thousand pieces.
And when my fingers slip against his, trembling and slick with my release, I thread them through his like letting go is no longer possible.
The world returns in jagged, uneven pieces. The heat inside me finally breaks, leaving my body weak and trembling in his arms.
But through the tether, I still feel the fire raging in him.
“Avi,” he whispers roughly.
Like my name is the last thing keeping him from breaking.