He draws out a sleek black wand and approaches me, picking up his tie from the floor. The look in his eyes makes my heartbeat quicken, my legs pressing together involuntarily.
When he reaches me, his expression has shifted completely—focused, commanding.
“Hands above your head,” he says.
The dark edge to his voice rubs against me, a velvety sensation that lights a trail of fire against my skin. I feel myself grow wet with anticipation.
“Now, Natalie.”
“I was supposed to be doing the seducing,” I complain, and he smacks me on the hip, the sharp sting sending heat through my core.
“I won’t ask again.”
My arms lift over my head, excitement filling me.
“Grab the bed frame.”
My fingers curl around the wooden frame, cool against my heated skin.
He ties the blindfold over my eyes, gently but firmly, stealing the room from view, heightening every sound, every breath, every brush of air. I feel the bed dip, his weight returning. His hands ghost over my ribs, my hips, the insides of my thighs. Teasing.
“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice like honey and gravel.
The wand buzzes to life.
He doesn’t press it to me right away. No, Ethan’s crueler than that. He traces it along my inner thighs, over my stomach, letting it hum near—but not on—my clit. I arch instinctively, and he chuckles low.
“Needy already?”
“Ethan...”
He finally presses it between my legs, and I cry out, body jolting. The pleasure is instant. Hot. Sharp. He keeps the pressure steady, never too much, never not enough.
I writhe under him, moaning his name, and just when I’m right there, seconds from falling apart, he pulls it away.
“No,” I gasp.
“Yes,” he growls. “You’ll come when I say.”
My body is burning. Desperate. I nod frantically, begging.
He kisses down my chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth while the wand returns—this time lower, more precise. He watches me come apart, whispering filth and praise in equal measure. And when he finally gives me permission, I shatter.
It’s not soft. It’s not slow. It’s everything at once—blinding heat, spasms of pleasure, the sound of his voice anchoring me as my orgasm crashes through.
I’m barely coherent when he moves over me, shoving hispants down, sliding into me with a deep, claiming thrust. My cry is swallowed by his kiss. He doesn’t hold back, doesn’t pretend this is anything but raw and possessive.
“Mine,” he growls against my throat, thrusting hard. “All fucking mine.”
“Yes,” I gasp, clinging to him. “Always.”
His movements are frenzied as he chases his own pleasure, and when he comes, it’s with a hoarse groan, his entire body tensing as he spills inside me.
He stays like that for a moment, forehead resting on mine, our hearts pounding in sync.
The silence after is soft. Safe.
He unties the blindfold, kisses my cheeks, my lips, my eyelids.
