All of it is his.
He disappears briefly, and his absence leaves the air cold against my sweat-slicked skin—like the room itself clings to what he left behind. I feel him before I hear him, the soft click of a cap being twisted open breaking the silence.
Then comes the cool drizzle of lube—silky and shocking as it slides down the cleft of my ass, pooling before he spreads it with firm fingers.
“Fuck me, Nell,” he grunts, voice low and guttural. “Your ass is so tight.”
He starts slow, teasing the entrance, pushing inch by inch—stretching me with gentle determination until his hips meet mine and his balls press against the curve of my backside.
The initial burn is sharp, my body instinctively trying to retreat, but I force myself to breathe through it. To relax. To give him everything.
It takes a minute.
Then he starts to move.
Slow, steady thrusts that build rhythm. The sting fades, the ache turns to heat, and soon I’m rolling my hips back against him, in that greedy and shameless sort of way of a woman coming undone.
He reaches for the chain between the clamps on my nipples, wraps it around his fist, and uses it to control my body—each thrust jerking against the tight metal, sending shockwaves through my chest.
With his free hand, he finds my clit and rolls it beneath his fingers, pinching just hard enough to make me gasp—but his rhythm makes the pain melt into pure fucking pleasure.
Then he leans forward, swipes two fingers through my soaked pussy, and brings them to his lips—sucking them slow, tasting me like I’m his favourite goddamn flavour.
I’m drooling around the gag, moaning wild and wordless when he finally reaches behind my head and unbuckles it, yanking the bit from my mouth in one fluid motion.
Before I can catch a breath, his fingers pinch my cheeks, trying to force my mouth open.
“Open,” he commands, and the second I comply, he spits.
It’s hot. Slick.
Mine and his, mixed.
“Taste yourself,” he growls, eyes blazing as his thumb presses under my chin and holds me there.
And I swallow.
Every drop.
Because fuck yes—I belong to this.
The sounds spill out of me now—filthy, rhythmic, and raw—as he drives into me again and again, each thrust jerking my body forward and back with rough precision. His pace quickens, hips slamming against mine, sweat mixing between us, heat suffusing every touchpoint.
“Cam—fuck,fuck,” I cry out, biting down hard on my lip to cage the scream building in my throat.
He smacks my ass, the sting sharp and electric, then grabs my thigh and stretches me open wider. His lips press kisses down the curve of my calf, unhurried and possessive, even as he keeps grinding deep inside me.
“Play with yourself, Nell,” he growls, that voice drenched in command and heat. “Show me exactly how you like it.”
Yesfuckingsir.
I slide my hand to my clit, swollen and aching, and the moment my fingers brush it I know I’m already teetering on the edge.
I’m strung so tight from his rhythm, his pressure, the clamps pulling mercilessly at my nipples—it’s not a question ofif, onlywhen.
“Attagirl,” he murmurs, watching the way I circle, flick, and stroke until the tension snaps—my body shattering as pleasure detonates through me. I moan loud and wrecked as I clench around him, thighs trembling, fingers soaked in my orgasmic release.
He snarls above me, driving harder now, using every inch of me to chase his own climax. His cock plunges deep, buried in my ass, thick and relentless.
