CHAPTER 13. Soft Soil (Patreon)

Theo moved toward me slowly. I could barely hear him breathe, but I felt him. His presence devoured the room. There was something in the way he looked at me. His fingers found the cage again, tapping it gently, then tracing it like a craftsman admiring his work. I shivered. Then he moved lower, his hand sliding between my thighs, palm warm, deliberate. He cupped my *ss, squeezed softly, then began to stroke, coaxing, patient. “Relax,” he whispered, almost too soft to hear. “You need to open up for me.” And my body, traitorous, obedient, was already trying.