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I come fast and hard.
My world goes white. Nothing but the blinding light of the sun outside, the steady sound of his breath, the sweet pressure of his hand on my skin.
He works me through my orgasm. Then he releases me. Looks up at me, once again deciding what he's going to do with me. "Turn around."
I do.
"Give me your hands."
I put my arms behind my back.
He cinches something around them. Something soft and smooth. His orange tie.
I yelp as he tests the restraints.
Fuck. I like him binding me. I like it too much.
He moves behind me, so I can feel his cock against my ass. "I wanted to do this yesterday." He pushes his palm against my lower back, leading me into the hallway, to the spot in front of the mirror.
"Why didn't you?" I ask.
"I didn't have a condom."
"I did."
"You prepared?"
Okay. Maybe I prepared for the possibility. "I wanted to be safe. Just in case."
"In case I fucked you?"
"Yes."
"Did you think I would?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know. Better to have it if you did."
"Greedy."
"For you, yes."
He lets out a soft groan.
My sex clenches. Already, I need him again. I need that again. His groan, his need, his bliss.
He wraps his arm around my waist. Turns me, so I'm facing the wall. "This is going to hurt." There's no threat in his voice. It's a matter-of-fact statement.
This is going to hurt. And that sets me on fire.
He pushes me against the wall. Hard enough I have to turn my head.
With my arms behind my back, I can barely balance. I have to trust him to keep me upright.
He holds me in place as he shifts back, unzips his slacks, rolls the condom over his cock.
Without warning, he drives into me.
No teasing. No warm up. One hard, deep, perfect thrust.
Fuck.
The pressure is intense. Almost too much to take.
But still, I want more.
He holds my body against his as he drives into me again.
Harder.
Then harder.
Then hard enough my cheek bumps against the wall.
It does hurt, but the force of it—
Fuck. Why does that set me on fire? Why don't I care?
He does it again.
My cheek bumps the wall again.
Again—
"Fuck." It hurts too much. In a bad way. A my forehead isn't made for this way.
But I don't want to ask him to stop.
I don't want him to stop.
I like him rough and commanding.
I bite my lip. Try to take it.
He rocks into me again.
My eyes close. My breath hitches.
Again.
A yelp falls from my lips.
He stops immediately.
My shoulders fall with relief. "I…"
"Like this." Gently, he undoes the binding on my wrists, then brings my hands to the wall, over my head. "Keep them there."
I nod.
His hands return to my hips. He holds me in place for a moment, then he drives into me, hard and deep.
Even with my hands on the wall, I nearly hit the plaster. It's intense. Rough.
But only in a good way.
In such a fucking good way.
I arch my back, my pelvis against his for leverage.
He rocks into me again.
Again.
My body stretches to take him.
The pressure fades to pleasure. Still intense, but in the best possible way.
I dig my fingers into the wall.
He rocks into me again and again.
Those same deep, hard strokes.
My gaze goes to the mirror.
I watch the perfect mix of bliss and control bleed over his expression.
I need that.
Him coming, him groaning my name, him under my spell.
His breaths run together. Drift into low groans.
His nails scrape my skin.
I rock my hips to meet him. I'm close too. So fucking close. So desperately in need of release.
"Please." I arch my back. "Cam. Please."
He doesn't ask what I mean. He brings his thumb to my clit. Works me with those perfect circles as he drives into me.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Fuck.
I watch him fill me one more time, then I let my eyes close. My world goes white as I come. It's different than before. Faster, harder, more intense.
My body pulses around him, pulling him closer and deeper.
Pulling us together.
I groan his name as I come.
He works me through my orgasm. Then he brings both hands to my hips and he fucks me.
Those same hard, deep strokes, but faster. Again and again.
Until he's there.
I watch as his brow furrows, as his nails dig into my skin, as his shoulder tense and release.
He drives into me as he comes. I can see it in his posture. Feel it in the way he pulses inside me.
It feels so fucking good. But still, I want more. His flesh against mine. No clothes.
No barriers.
No end date.
Some of that is possible. Maybe just the first. But even that, the thought of every inch of his body against every inch of mine—
I really fucking want it.
He finishes, untangles our bodies, takes care of the condom.
Then he scoops me into his arms, carries me to the couch, runs his fingers through my hair as I catch my breath.
