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“Physically,” I quip.
“Hush,” he chuckles, burying his face in my cleavage.
I’m fine with shutting up. The more we talk about the binding, the more I feel it. I don’t want to focus on it right now. I just want to feel Nathan.
I duck under the blankets and wriggle down the bed, settling between his legs. His erection is poking above the waistband of his boxers. I wet my lips and press them against the underside of the head.
He takes a long, hissing inhale and pushes the duvet back. I grin up at him. “You’ll have to give me a hand here.”
“I’m putting a perpetual moratorium on that joke,” he scolds me, but grips himself so I can keep my balance with my hand beside his hip. I dip my head down and give him a long, slow, swirl of my tongue. When I lift my head, his hand follows me up. When I take him back in, his hand drops down. We move together that way in a lazy rhythm, him stroking himself while I tease and suck. The veins in his cock throb against my tongue and his hips strain up; I know it’s time to stop.
I sit back and push his hand away before he can finish himself off. I don’t think it would take more than a few strokes.
“Settle down,” I say, pulling up my nightgown as I straddle his hips. “Try not to come the second you get inside me.”
“How can you be so demeaning and sexy at the same time?” he huffs. “I’ll have you know I have incredible control.”
But that seems debatable, judging from the way he moans and clutches at my thighs as I sink onto his cock. I rise up until just the tip of him remains inside me, then I squeeze my internal muscles around him as I slowly take him all the way again.
With a hiss, he amends his previous statement. “I have okayish control.”
I laugh and throw my head back, churning my hips in a steady, unhurried rhythm, impaled on his unyielding hardness. He matches my movements, content with the lazy, slow roll of our bodies meeting and parting. The air around us is like silk on our bare skin, the silence broken only by our rapid breathing and the thick, wet sound of his cock plunging and retreating.
“Touch yourself for me,” Nathan whispers. “Let me watch you come on my cock.”
I lean back a little, but I’m hampered by the need for balance. Nathan brings his knees up behind me, effectively providing me with a back rest to lean on. The position doesn’t allow for deep penetration, but it does press the head of his cock firmly against my g-spot. I can move, just a little bit, just enough to rub that sensitive bundle of nerves over him as he flexes inside me.
I open my thighs as much as I can, to give him a better view of my body spread open around him, and bring my fingertips to mouth, wetting them before I bring them to my clit. Nathan’s eyes widen at that, and a shaking breath leaves him as he watches, transfixed by the sight. I want to drop my head back, close my eyes, and focus only on the pleasure building in my pelvis. But watching him watching me is such a turn on, I can’t tear my gaze away.
A high, mewling sound pulls from my throat as I climb higher, and his attention moves from my furiously working fingers to make eye contact. It’s far more intimate than anything we’ve done. Far more personal and connected and I’m not sure how I feel about it, but it’s too late. I’m so close to coming that I can’t stop. With a gasp that turns into a shuddering moan, I lose myself, both in the ecstasy of my release and the hunger in Nathan’s eyes.
He curls up from the bed and grabs my ass to steady me, gaze still locked on mine, and with a few, shallow thrusts, follows me over the edge into his own climax. He breathes heavily through every pulse and burst, cum leaking out around the tight seal of our bodies’ connection and smearing into the places where our skin meets. He keeps going, keeps moving for as long as he can stand to before he slides from me.
My heart clenches. There was something so personal about what just happened. Nathan staring deep into my eyes as he reached the apex of the pleasure he took in my body had made him strangely vulnerable. It touches something in me that I didn’t realize I felt for him.
Trust.
Not just trust that he won’t hurt me if he decides to tie me up in bed again, or trust that he can keep me safe from pack machinations. Trust that I can show him even my most intimate desires, trust that he revels in our passionate connection.
