Reina wanted to pull away, her instincts screaming at her to resist, to fight against the humiliation and betrayal she felt within herself.
But as her trembling hands hovered in the air, the haunting memory of Althea's earlier torment crept into her mind.
The agonizing pain, the sheer helplessness—it was too vivid, too raw. She couldn't go through it again.
Instead, her hands found their way to Ross's head, clutching his hair tightly as if it were a lifeline.
Her grip was desperate, her knuckles white as she clung to him, not to encourage him, but to steady herself against the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.
Ross showed no mercy. His mouth worked skillfully, his tongue flicking and teasing in ways that sent sparks shooting up her spine.
Each deliberate movement was calculated, designed to wring every ounce of reaction from her. Her hips betrayed her, jerking involuntarily, and a small, broken moan escaped her lips before she could stifle it.
