Page 68 of The Shadow Sanctum

“Sorry, Daddy,” I whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear.

He doesn’t smile or frown. There’s no flicker of humor or judgment. Instead, his serious, immobilizing eyes travel to my chest. “That’s better.”

The hand under my chin slides away only so he can take both of my wrists, drawing them behind my back in a grip that feels more like possession than restraint. His chest settles against my spine, his voice low enough to make the fine hairs along my neck lift.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, almost like he’s in awe. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

The words coil through me until something deep in my gut unwinds. I watch my own face in the mirror—cheeks warm, lips parted, pupils wide—and I know he’s watching it too.

His touch drifts from my shoulder, down the slope of my arm, then across the line of my hip bone. He skims over every rise and hollow as if he’s mapping me, his pace slow enough to make the air feel thick.

His palm drifts lower, hovering between my legs. “You want me to make you feel good?”

I nod. His grip tightens. “Words.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

That earns me his fingers sliding between my folds, slow and searching, parting me until his middle finger finds my clit. He works it in unhurried circles that make my knees weaken.

“Hold your head up. Watch.”

I obey and watch my lips part in a soft moan. A pink flush creeps over my throat.

“Wider,” he instructs.

I spread my stance until I’m open for him, and his grin deepens as two fingers sink inside me. His pace is deliberate, enough to make me squirm, but not enough to let me escape the need building low and hot.

“Say what you see,” he tells me.

“I…” Words stick in my throat as his fingers press deeper, curling in a way that forces a breathless groan from me. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. What do you see, Luna?"

I blow out a breath that turns into a moan as Sawyer’s thumb grinds against my clit. In front of me, my face contorts with pleasure.

What do I see? Honestly?

“A whore,” I groan, hips jutting.

“My whore.”

“Your whore.”

His smile is dark and pleased. “Good girl.”

The praise lands like heat under my skin, curling my toes against the floor. My thighs tremble, but his grip keeps me steady—keeps me exactly where he wants me.

His free hand slides from my wrists to my hip and pulls me back against his erection. The movement makes his fingers sink deeper, makes my mouth fall open at the sight of my own reaction in the mirror.

“You’re gonna come for me like this.” The murmur brushes the shell of my ear. “I want you to watch how sexy you are.”

It’s impossible to look anywhere else. My gaze is caught on the flush spreading over my chest, the way my lips keep parting around little gasps, the slight glaze in my eyes. Every shift of his fingers sends another ripple of heat through my stomach.

The heat crests fast. Too fast.

I try to hold it back, keep quiet enough not to embarrass myself, but my hips betray me. I rock into Sawyer’s hand like I’ve forgotten the concept of restraint.

His breath is a warm ghost along my neck, his fingers moving with purpose now, his body closing in. The room shrinks down to the rhythm he’s building inside me, the slow grind of his thumb, the deep curl of his fingers finding every nerve.