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“Fuck,” he muttered. He pulled out and pushed in again, the pressure and heat making him shudder. The dildo started to slide free, forced out by the pressure of his cock, and he laid a hand on the flat base to hold it in place.
“That’s what I want,” he managed through gritted teeth. “That’s the tight cunt I want.” His orgasm was gathering, the pressure building, but he wanted to hold it off. He wanted her to come.
“Good little fuck toy,” he said, searching frantically for the right words, the ones that would make her burn hotter and brighter, the ones that would help get her there. “Hot little hole, perfect for my cock.”
She clamped down around him, muscles fluttering.
“Greedy little fuck toy. You like that, don’t you? Like being a toy, a come dump, a vessel for my cock.” He let out a harsh laugh, pounding faster, harder. “You gonna come, little fuck toy? Are you?”
She whimpered behind the gag, her lashes fluttering and her eyes rolling back as her orgasm hit. Her cunt tightened like a fist around him in hard, rhythmic spasms, and all he could think wasthank God, and let himself follow.
When it was over, he sagged against her, locking his knees to keep from collapsing on her completely. “Hang on, baby,” he murmured, and planted a hand on the mattress to steady himself. “Just hang on.”
He dealt with the gag first, fumbling at the straps with clumsy fingers, cursing under his breath when he accidentally pulled her hair and made her flinch. “Sorry,” he whispered, and eased the ball from her mouth. He watched her carefully as she slowly closed her jaw. “Sorry,” he repeated, and wiped at the saliva on her chin. “Okay?”
She nodded, her eyes hazy and her breath coming in ragged pants. “I’m okay.”
“Just hang on while I get the rest,” he told her, and levered himself off her.
She winced when he pulled out of her pussy, and let out a gasping cry when he tugged the dildo free, but by the time he had her wrists undone and her ankles free of the spreader bar, she seemed to be breathing more easily.
He left her slumped over the foot of the bed to quickly strip off his clothes and fold down the duvet. Those tasks accomplished, he scooped her into his arms and laid her gently in the middle of the bed, then climbed in next to her and pulled the duvet over both of them.
“How’re you doing, love?” he murmured.
“Good,” she said, her voice a little slurred. “You?”
He swallowed the ball of raw anxiety that sat in his throat like lead. “Yeah.”
“Wanna sleep now,” she mumbled. “Can we talk later?”
“Sure, baby.” He rubbed her back, soothing himself with the soft feel of her skin under his hand. “Go to sleep. When you wake up, we’ll watch a movie and have our traditional Valentine’s Day dinner.”
“Lasagna.” She sighed and tilted her head back to smile at him with sleepy eyes. “I don’t have to make it, do I?”
“I ordered from Capellini’s,” he assured her.
“Oh, good.” She snuggled back into his shoulder with another sigh. “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” he said, and held her while she slept.
