My eyes burned as I stared down at him. And then slowly, deliberately, I stood.
I remembered where he kept them.
Crossing the room, I opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the handcuffs he’d stashed there. The click of metal felt like power.
“Lie back. Near the headboard. Hands up.”
Wordlessly, he moved to the headboard, back hitting the frame with a thud, chest hard as stone, jaw clenched.
I climbed onto the bed again and locked his wrists in place, the cuffs catching the faint light as I fastened them to the frame.
Then I tugged off his sweats and underwear, leaving him fully exposed. His cock was already hard, thick and flushed, veins bulging like it was begging for attention.
My mouth watered at the sight. For a split second, instinct screamed at me to drop to my knees, to take him down my throat, to worship him the way my body ached to.
But that wouldn’t be punishment.
That would be mercy.
And I wanted him to suffer.
I ran my fingers over him once—just once—and watched his breath catch, his hips bucking instinctively.
Then I sat in front of him, our legs barely touching, and spread my thighs.
I started slow.
One hand teasing across my breasts, the other trailing between my legs. I dipped a finger into my mouth, watching his jaw tighten as I sucked it slowly, then let it wander lower.
I didn’t touch him.
I let him watch.
“Do you like it?” I whispered, breath catching as my fingers found my clit. “Do you like how it feels to want something you’re not allowed to have?”
His eyes darkened to black, lips parted, panting.
I moaned, head tipping back, as I rubbed harder. First one finger slipped inside me, then a second, stretching me open. Wetter now, messier, I fucked myself with both, eyes locked on him the whole time.
He was straining now, breathing heavy, his cock so hard it looked painful.
Still, I didn’t touch him.
I kept going. Teasing, moaning, driving myself higher and higher—just out of his reach.
“Tell me you want me,” I said, my voice breathless but firm.
“I wake up hard and desperate for you,” he said, eyes dark. “I fall asleep fucking you in my head. I want you every fucking moment, Kira.”
“Good,” I said, fucking myself faster, harder, hand slamming against my clit with every thrust. I was dripping, desperate, riding the edge—and his voice was dragging me closer. “Keep going.”
His chest rose and fell hard. “Your pussy owns me,” he groaned, voice cracking. “I need to bury my face between your legs and eat you until I drown. Let me taste you like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.”
“Begging so pretty,” I smirked, easing back against the mattress and parting my thighs even more. “Too bad you don’t get a say tonight.”I drove my fingers in harder, the other hand working my clit fast and messy. I was dripping all over the sheets, right there in front of him.
“Jesus, Kira… you’re gonna make me come just looking,” he growled, barely holding it together. “I need to be inside you—right fucking now. Please.”
The second he said it, I broke. The memory of him inside me—stretching, filling, ruining—hit like lightning. My pussy clenched around my fingers, body jerking as I came, breath caught. When I finally looked up, his eyes were feral. Desperate. Like he’d go insane if I didn’t touch him soon.
