The Surgeon's Sacred Flower Trap - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
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The blindfold stole my vision, heightening every other sensation to almost painful clarity.
Ethan Holloway's hands slid beneath my blouse, pushing aside delicate lace as his palms molded to my curves with practiced ease.
"Doctor..." My voice wavered, the protest dying on my tongue.
"Standard sensitivity protocol," he said smoothly, fingers tracing downward. "We're mapping your body's responses to help you appreciate its... special qualities."
A shiver ran through me as my traitorous flesh responded to his touch. The room seemed to tilt, my thoughts turning syrupy slow.
Then came the whisper of silk sliding down my thighs. Cool air kissed newly exposed skin.
I gasped when his bare fingers made contact—no clinical barrier between us. The intimacy of skin-on-skin sent electric jolts through my nervous system.
"Beautiful," he breathed.
My face burned at the praise, a fleeting image of Liam's reaction flashing through my haze.
Then—impossibly—warmth. The wet heat of a mouth where no mouth should be.
"Dr. Holloway!" I scrabbled for the blindfold, but he trapped my wrists effortlessly. His lips never broke contact, words vibrating against feverish skin:
"Just let it happen..."
That velvet command turned my limbs to lead. Despite myself, my hips lifted, thighs quivering around his shoulders.
Abrupt freedom. The rustle of clothing. Then crushing weight—
Every instinct shrieked danger.
A brutal lunge. Violation.
Ethan Holloway's hands slid beneath my blouse, pushing aside delicate lace as his palms molded to my curves with practiced ease.
"Doctor..." My voice wavered, the protest dying on my tongue.
"Standard sensitivity protocol," he said smoothly, fingers tracing downward. "We're mapping your body's responses to help you appreciate its... special qualities."
A shiver ran through me as my traitorous flesh responded to his touch. The room seemed to tilt, my thoughts turning syrupy slow.
Then came the whisper of silk sliding down my thighs. Cool air kissed newly exposed skin.
I gasped when his bare fingers made contact—no clinical barrier between us. The intimacy of skin-on-skin sent electric jolts through my nervous system.
"Beautiful," he breathed.
My face burned at the praise, a fleeting image of Liam's reaction flashing through my haze.
Then—impossibly—warmth. The wet heat of a mouth where no mouth should be.
"Dr. Holloway!" I scrabbled for the blindfold, but he trapped my wrists effortlessly. His lips never broke contact, words vibrating against feverish skin:
"Just let it happen..."
That velvet command turned my limbs to lead. Despite myself, my hips lifted, thighs quivering around his shoulders.
Abrupt freedom. The rustle of clothing. Then crushing weight—
Every instinct shrieked danger.
A brutal lunge. Violation.
End of The Surgeon's Sacred Flower Trap Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to The Surgeon's Sacred Flower Trap book page.