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‘Michael...’ It’s too much. My body’s on fire with pleasure, the vibrator alone enough to set me off, but, combined with the feeling of his mouth on me, his hands on my hips, I’m burning up.
‘Please.’ I have no idea what I’m asking for but I’m falling apart. I want to pull at my hands, to touch him, to do something, but I can’t. And my lack of ability to move, the power he has over me, the ease with which he’s making me come... It’s all so very good.
My orgasm builds, a wave that I am unable to control. He holds my hips steady as I roll them. I pull at my arms—nothing. My captivity is thrilling.
He reaches between my legs and suddenly the vibrator, while still inside me, is no longer buzzing. I moan at the feeling of its intrusion, and his mouth on my clit... I say his name, over and over, and dig my fingernails into the bedpost until I splinter apart, pleasure breaking me into a whole new person, someone I don’t know if I recognise.
And then he’s standing up, coming to stand behind me. He pulls the vibrator from me, and there’s nothing. I’m blindfolded, alone, so turned on, my breath still rushing. Seconds later and his hands at my hips are steady, strong, sturdy, and then I feel him, his cock, come between my legs. I whimper. I’m so desperate for this.
‘And to think you were a virgin a few nights ago,’ he murmurs, reaching for my hair and tangling his fingers in it. He holds my head steady in one hand; the other he brings to my breasts, playing with them as his powerful cock teases my entrance. God, I need him.
‘Stop making me wait,’ I beg, and he laughs throatily.
‘I like you like this,’ he says simply.
‘Like what?’
‘Practically crazy for me.’
‘I’ve been practically crazy for you for over two months,’ I say, the words strangled from my throat by desire. ‘I still remember when you walked into the bar on my second shift and I had a powerful desire to strip you of your clothes.’
His laugh is a rumble. ‘My little virgin.’
I grin. ‘Not any more.’
‘I still can’t understand how you waited. You’re a very sexual person, Millie.’
‘Am I?’ I focus on the easier part of his statement.
His answer is to thrust into me, I’d say unexpectedly, but of course it’s not. I’ve been expecting it since I walked in his front door.
‘Yes.’ He moves both hands to my hips, holding me tight, steady, and drives into me hard from behind, so all I am aware of is his powerful dick taking control of my body. With my eyes blindfolded, my vision taken from me, every other sense is so much more acute. I feel everything; I hear everything. The rasping of his breath, the warmth of his skin, the heat of this—our need.
I roll my hips against his palms and he drops his hands lower, cupping my arse. I moan hungrily, desperately, so full of heat and want. And then I cry his name as pleasure explodes through me.
He runs his hands over my back, reassuring me, like he knows that this is a pleasure that’s almost terrifying for how all-consuming it is. And then he’s unclipping the handcuffs, pulling out of me and lifting me to the bed. He lays me down and hooks the cuffs at the head of the bed, with me on my back. The blindfold is still in place, but not for long. As he drives into me anew, he removes it, his face above mine, his eyes watching me.
And he grins, a boyish grin, a sexy grin that robs me of breath until his rhythm robs me of breath for a wholly new reason. I am lost to this, lost on a sea of pleasure and joy, lost to him.
And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
* * *
My eyes are heavy. I lie beside him, my body still rocking with waves of intense physical awareness, sensations throbbing through every single one of my cells.
‘So you’re telling me...’ he drawls, his voice thick with tiredness. I have been here for hours. He has made love to me for hours—no, fucked me for hours. Fucked me hard, and I came again and again so now I am like a livewire. ‘That not even when you were a horny teenager did you find some guy you liked and think, Hey, I might give this a go?’
I spin around to face him, propping my head up on my hand. ‘You really can’t get over the fact I was a twenty-three-year-old virgin, huh?’
‘Not easily.’
I laugh softly. ‘Then no, in answer to your question. I didn’t meet a lot of guys.’
‘Were you raised in a convent?’
‘As good as. You’re looking at a graduate of St Mary’s School for Girls, thank you very much.’
‘Ah. A good Catholic schoolgirl. That explains it.’
