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“Language.”

“There are three masked men chasing me through a haunted corn maze because I signed a form asking them to fuck me. I think we’re past worrying about my language.”

His fingers slide back inside me. Harder this time. I cry out.

“Good girl.”

The praise pushes me closer. I fight to hold still. Fight not to chase his hand. Fight not to give him another reason to stop.

“Rhys, please.”

“What do you need?”

“I need to come.”

“For whom?”

“For you.”

His thumb moves faster on the bulb of my pussy. My entire body tightens.

“And who caught you?”

“The Reaper.”

“Who decides when you come?”

“You do.”

“Look at you learning.”

He curls his fingers. Pleasure detonates. My scream strikes the walls and returns to me. I pull against the restraint as wave after wave tears through my body. Rhys doesn’t stop. He holds me through every shudder, slowing only when I turn my face toward my arm and gasp his name. His free hand settles against the center of my chest.

“Breathe.”

I drag air into my lungs.

“That’s it.”

My body gradually softens beneath him. He removes his hand and strokes the inside of my thigh.

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Still?”

I smile weakly beneath the blindfold.

“Neon.”

Rhys unfastens my wrists and massages them before removing the silk from my eyes. The skull mask is the first thing I see. He stands between my open knees, broad shoulders rising and falling beneath his black shirt. A wet shine covers his fingers. Glistening from my own come. He lifts them beneath the edge of his mask. My lips part. His jaw moves. Heat rushes through me again.

“That’s obscene.”

“You’re delicious.”

“That’s worse.”