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It barely gets out. I’m soaked in sweat, lips parted around the gag, cock twitching with how badly I need to move again. My lungs burn. My thighs ache. I’d crawl through glass if she asked.

Her fingers smooth up my ribs, slow and warm, then slide over my chest like she’s steadying me—like she can feel every frantic beat of my heart under her palm.

“Good,” she says softly, voice dragging heat through my spine. “Now deeper.”

I obey. Of course I do. I rock forward, slow and controlled, pushing until I bottom out inside her—so deep I feel her grip all the way around me, squeezing tight. My cock pulses inside her, thick and straining, the head pressed hard against the deepest part of her. The stretch has me groaning behind the tie.

“Again.”

I move.

“Stay there.”

I still.

It goes on like that—her voice in my ear, her hands on my body, guiding every pace, every thrust, every inch of me she allows. I’m barely holding on. Every time I push into her, I swear it gets worse—hotter, tighter, better. I pick up the pace without thinking—just chasing it. Chasing her. My hips stutter forward harder and faster, needing more of her, needing all of her.

Her nails sink into my shoulder, sharp enough to leave marks. “Slower,” she hisses, legs tensing around me, body pulling tight. “You’ll make me come first. You understand?”

I nod frantically, moaning behind clenched teeth, trying to still my hips even as they twitch with the urge to thrust into her again.

Her hand reaches up and tugs the knot at the back of my head, loosening the silk just enough for me to pant out, “Yes—yes, I understand. I’ll wait. I’ll—fuck, I’ll do whatever you want.”

I start to move again, hips rolling slow, deep, dragging every inch of me through her. She’s so fucking wet it’s obscene. Every stroke sounds slick and shameless, her thighs trembling beneath me as her body writhes under the weight of mine. Sweat drips down my back, my chest, rubbing between us in heat and motion.

She grinds up into me—hips rising to meet every thrust, fucking back with control so ruthless it makes my vision blur. Her eyes lock on mine, half-lidded and dark, and I feel it again—that pull. That fucking power. Like I’m nothing but a body reacting to hers, a cock to use, a good boy with a job.

She doesn’t have to speak. Her body commands mine from underneath, arching to meet every thrust, forcing me deeper, slower, right there.

My hand drifts down between us, fingers slipping between her thighs, and I find her clit. I rub slow, tight circles. Gentle at first. Then firmer, faster, chasing that sound she makes when she breaks.

Her breath catches. Her thighs twitch around my hips. Her fingers dig into my biceps.

And then she lets go, coming hard, her back bowing off the bed, pussy pulsing around my cock. She rips the tie off me completely, yanking the knot loose like she can’t wait anymore. I gasp, finally able to breathe properly—but only for a second—before she grabs the back of my neck and pulls our mouths together.

She kisses me hard, claiming my tongue with hers like she’s still gagging me with her body instead. I moan into it, her teeth dragging over my bottom lip.

“I want to hear you now,” she gasps. “I want to hear how you sound when you come.”

I thrust into her harder, messier, every nerve on fire as my orgasm slams through me like it’s trying to tear me apart. A low, broken groan rips out of me, and I swear, I see stars—white-hot bursts behind my eyelids as my cock twitches deep inside her, spilling into the condom, hips jerking uncontrollably. with each pulsing wave.

My forehead drops to hers, breath dragging ragged from my chest. I press a kiss to her cheek. Another to her jaw. Another to her forehead. I don’t even know what I’m saying, just whispering thank yous into her skin over and over again. “Thank you—fuck—thank you, thank you⁠—”

Her chest rises against mine, sticky and slick, but her fingers move with quiet ease as she brings her wrist to my mouth, wiping away the spit and sweat and need still lingering at the corners.

“There’s my good boy.”

A shaky breath escapes my throat, and I stay there for a second longer, skin damp against hers, chest still heaving. Then I roll onto my back, arm brushing hers, the sheets a tangled wreck around our hips. She shifts beside me, tucking into my side, knuckles drag lightly down my sternum, tracing the sweat-slick skin.

“Are we really doing this?” I hear myself ask quietly. “Not hiding. Not…”

She turns her face, looking up at me. “Yes.”

“Okay.” I nod shakily. “Okay.”

She pushes herself upright, reaches toward the nightstand, and grabs her phone. “Do you want to make it official?” she asks.

“What do you mean?” I ask, brow furrowing. Then my eyes widen, and I watch in stunned silence as she pulls up her inbox, opens an email draft, and starts typing—her body still flushed, skin glowing with sex and sweat, one leg curled under her as she writes.