Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 9: You’re ready

Rhea jerked against the cot, crimson hair spilling over her scarred shoulders like molten wine, the reinforced frame groaning as she shifted. The leather cuffs from last night still bit into her wrists, chaining her arms taut above her head—links clinking faintly against the metal frame, her body already stretched and vulnerable.

Her amber eyes glinted—sharp with defiance, softened by a hunger she couldn't bury—as the door swung open with a slow, creaking groan.

Kael stepped in, unannounced, the black case in his hand hitting the tiles with a dull, deliberate clank that echoed off the stark gray walls. His dark shirt clung to his lean frame, sleeves rolled to his elbows, baring the taut lines of his forearms, and a predatory grin split his face—no coin, no games, just raw, unfiltered intent.

"You're ready," he said, voice low and rough, a gravelly promise that coiled around her spine as he closed the distance, his shadow swallowing her whole.

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Rhea didn't flinch—just smirked, leaning back on her elbows as best she could with her wrists bound, letting the undershirt ride up to tease the jagged scars etched across her ribs, the fabric stretched tight against her curves.

"Prove it," she husked, voice thick with sleep and expectation, a challenge dripping with heat that thickened the stale air between them.

Kael crouched beside the cot, hazel eyes locking on hers—dark, unyielding, a storm brewing behind them. "You've got no fire left to fight," he muttered, the words a flimsy nod to the rehab ruse—a whisper of a lie neither of them bothered to prop up anymore.

This wasn't about fixing her; it was about his pleasure, her unraveling under his design. He snapped the case open with a sharp click, revealing a vibrating wand—longer, thicker than before, its matte surface heavy in his hand—paired with a small, pulsing clip that gleamed like a wicked jewel in the dim light.

He dragged the wand along her scarred chest—slow, deliberate—the hum sinking into her skin as he pressed it just above the undershirt's hem, teasing the edge of her ribs. His Empathic Resonance flared—cold precision for him, a torrential blaze for her—amplifying the vibration into a deep, throbbing pleasure that radiated outward, igniting every nerve in its path. Rhea arched, a sharp "Nh..." tearing from her throat, her body straining against the cuffs, leather creaking as the sensation coiled tight in her chest, hardening her nipples against the thin fabric until they ached.

Kael's gaze didn't waver—hazel eyes dark with hunger, tracking every twitch, every fractured breath—as he slid the wand lower, brushing the taut plane of her stomach, the hum sinking deeper, teasing the sensitive skin just above her hips. Then he clamped the clip to her inner thigh—its sharp pulses biting into her flesh, radiating inward with a rhythm that synced with the wand's relentless throb.

Her legs jerked, a soft "Fuck..." slipping out as the dual sensations crashed together, amplified into a slick, searing flood that coated her skin with sweat, her undershirt clinging damp and useless to her trembling frame.

His fingers joined the assault—tracing the scarred line of her neck, rough pads grazing her pulse, spiking the arousal until it was a live wire snapping through her veins. "Good girl," he growled, voice gravelly and thick, leaning closer as he shifted the wand—dipping it lower, teasing the edge of her hips, the vibration sinking into her core with a heat that made her gasp.

The clip pulsed harder, inching upward along her thigh, grazing the sensitive skin closer to her heat, and her breath fractured—gasps melting into raw moans—"Mmm... Kael..."—unfiltered, desperate, as she strained against the cuffs, the cot creaking beneath her writhing form.

He was relentless—layering the torment with precision, pushing her to the edge without mercy. The wand hummed against her lower stomach, a steady, pulsing throb that synced with the clip's sharp, electric bites, now dangerously close to where she ached most.

His free hand slid to her jaw, tilting her face up, fingers pressing into the scar just below her ear—amplifying every touch until the pleasure was a blade, sharp and consuming, slicing through her restraint. Her amber eyes fluttered, half-lidded, pupils blown wide as she writhed—"Don't... don't stop..."—voice cracking, a plea she hadn't meant to let slip, her defiance drowned in the flood he unleashed.

Sweat beaded on her brow, crimson hair sticking to her flushed cheeks in damp, wild strands, her undershirt soaked and clinging to every curve, outlining the taut peaks of her breasts. She was still Rhea—fiery, stubborn, a spark that refused to die—but she was breaking, crumbling under the weight of his control, craving the torrent he poured into her.

He teased her there—wand dipping just low enough to hint at her heat, clip shifting to sharpen the ache—pushing her to the brink but holding her back, her moans spilling free, loud and ragged—"Please..."—as she tugged the cuffs harder, leather biting into her wrists, her body bowing off the cot in a desperate arc.

Kael's grin widened, hazel eyes glinting with dark triumph, but he stopped—abrupt, calculated—pulling the wand back, switching it off with a flick, yanking the clip free with a soft pop. Rhea sagged, trembling violently, her breath a jagged symphony filling the stark room—chest heaving, thighs clenching, amber eyes wild with unspent need.

He wiped his hands on his shirt, slow and deliberate, standing to tower over her as she lay there, cuffed and panting, caught in the web he'd spun with cruel precision.

"Sleep on that," he rasped, voice rough but steady, a quiet claim dripping with satisfaction. He didn't touch the case—left it open on the floor, toys glinting faintly in the shadows—and stepped back, hazel eyes lingering on her flushed, sweat-slick form, tracing the way her undershirt clung to her trembling curves.

The room fell silent but alive—her gasps fading into shallow, uneven breaths, the air thick with musk and the faint tang of leather.

He didn't leave—just turned, leaning against the wall a few paces away, arms crossed, watching her with that same predatory stillness. The bulb overhead flickered, casting erratic light across her scars, her tangled hair, the cuffs pinning her to the cot. Rhea's head lolled back, amber eyes half-open, dazed and burning—locked on him, not fighting, just breathing, hooked deeper than she'd ever been.

Her scarred hands flexed in the restraints, fingers curling tight, but she didn't strain—didn't need to. The silence stretched, a taut, electric thread between them, and he stayed—unmoving, a shadow savoring the wildfire he'd tamed, waiting for her to break the quiet.