I’m off my game, and he knows it.
One look and I’m molten inside—no armour, no resistance, just unravelling.
When he releases me enough for me to find a rhythm I bob my head eagerly, trying to show him how good I can make this for him, and when he fists the base of his cock I release him with a pop, running my tongue against the back of his shaft all the way to his balls.
I pay both of them attention, sucking gently on them, just enough that I notice his stomach muscles tense and bunch together.
I bet he wasn’t expecting that.
Growing in confidence, I continue on my path, running my lips and tongue all over him, desperate to learn every inch of his body. When I swallow him in lips, tongue and spit, I gently graze my teeth against the back of his shaft.
His teeth bare, a low, feral growl erupting from deep in his chest. And in the next breath, I’m airborne.
He hurls me onto the bed with brutal ease, my limbs landing in a tangled heap of rope, skin, and breathless surrender. There’s no chance to brace, no hope of composure. I can’t untangle myself, not from the bindings, not from him.
I’m caught. Exactly where he wants me.
He positions me face down, my arms bound tight behind me, leaving me no way to brace, no leverage to steady myself.
All I can do is sink into the sheets—his scent clinging to them like memory, invasive and intoxicating.
My body is his to command now.
His hands grip my hips, rough and sure, and he drags me backward with a force that strips the air from my lungs. My feet no longer touch the bed, they no longer graze the silk below.
I can’t see anything, but when the heat of his breath saturates my inner thighs, I can only guess what he’s doing.
He’s skilled with his tongue, flicking it against my swollen, needy clit that drags delirious moans from my lips.
This man, betweenmylegs. Eatingmypussy.
But he doesn’t stop there, the hot lashes of his tongue glide further back, teasing my ass, preparing me. And for once it’s not my uncle I’m thinking about while he works his magic.
It’s him—stalker boy—rewriting my pain and fears whilst showing me just how good it can feel.
When his thumb joins in the action I’m overwhelmed, on a sensory overload. His mouth returns to give my clit attention, but his thumb is circling my other hole, applying pressure andreleasing again until he’s worked himself inside, holding me steady.
My body arches into his touch before I can stop it—reflexive, raw, undeniable.
And then I hear it.
That low, guttural laugh rumbling from his chest, all heat and satisfaction.
“Needy little thing, aren’t you?”
It’s not a question, not really.
But yes, yes I am.
He pulls away, and the sudden absence is brutal.
Cold air lashes at my flushed skin like punishment, dragging goosebumps across every inch he left exposed. I ache for the heat of him, for the weight that held me down and stripped me bare.
All I want now is to be claimed again
“Over my lap, trouble,” he commands, slapping his trouser clad thigh with heavy expectation. “I promised you pain, remember?”
Right.
