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The weight of the world seems to lift, leaving me feeling strangely light. I am Charlotte, the clumsy, coffee-loving, meme-hoarding woman, and they want me for exactly who I am. For the first time, I’m not hiding behind the shadows of my past.
I meet Lyric’s gaze, and there’s an unspoken understanding that goes beyond words. It draws a part of me to him, entangled in a bond that defies explanation, and next to him, Matty, a steady presence in this storm, offers me solace and support.
“We chose you,” Lyric repeats, his voice firm and filled with conviction.
Tears slip down my cheeks, but they are different now—tears of relief and acceptance. I’ve navigated the darkest corners of this intricate dance and found a glimpse of light, and I feel like I can breathe for the first time in a long time.
Desmond wheels what looks like a gymnastic bench into the room, placing it in the center and locking the wheels securely. He carefully uncuffs me, his touch gentle and comforting, massaging my hands and feet, then he steps away, leaving me to stand on my own.
I shiver, feeling the loss of his touch and the coldness of the room seeping into my skin. Questions whirl in my mind, and a sense of vulnerability creeps in. Is he going to leave me here like this? The thought churns my insides, making me feel unexpectedly broken.
“Desmond,” I call out, the worry evident in my voice. “Don’t leave me. Please.”
He turns to me swiftly, closing the distance in two purposeful steps, his mouth crashing down on mine in a hungry kiss that leaves me breathless. The fear of abandonment subsides momentarily, replaced by the heat of his lips on mine and the desperate need for his closeness.
“I’m not leaving you, kitten,” he assures me, his breath warm against my mouth. He kisses my chin gently before moving away. I watch as he tosses the shredded remnants of my clothes across the room, indicating that there’s no turning back now.
“What are you doing?” I manage to gulp back a sob, my anxiety bubbling up as he guides me to the bench, attaching rope to my arms and feet. His eyes never leave mine, offering a peculiar mix of intensity and comfort. I’m a little fuzzy, perhaps from the emotional turmoil or maybe just the longing for his touch. He slowly removes the pink device and sets it aside.
A shiver of anticipation runs down my spine as Desmond touches me again, his hands moving with purpose. My heart races as he adjusts the tilt of the bench, positioning me in a way that feels vulnerable yet oddly thrilling. My ass is exposed, making it look like I’m offering myself to him. I can feel the blush rising to my cheeks in embarrassment as I glance at Matty and Lyric on the other side of the glass. Their gazes are intense, their desire palpable, and I can sense the pulsing need in my own body.
Desmond smiles, circling me slowly, whispering nonsensical words into my ear. His hot breath teases my skin, causing goose bumps to spread across my body. Matty’s moan from the couch only heightens the charged atmosphere, amplifying the strange mix of arousal and vulnerability I’m experiencing.
Desmond’s touch electrifies me, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body as his hand lands between my thighs and against the small of my back. A cry escapes my lips at the delicious sensation of our skin touching, mixed with the intense pressure of his fingers against my most sensitive areas. Lyric watches intently, his face a portrait of desire, the air thick with the heady scent of need.
My eyes lock with Desmond’s, captivated by the raw desire and intention in his gaze. He skillfully teases and fondles my sensitive folds, making me rock into his hand, yearning for more. My hand flexes, desperate to pull him closer, to increase the contact, sending me spiraling into a world of pleasure.
Desmond’s fingers expertly swirl around my clit, leaving it tingling with a delightful sensation each time he passes over it. The intensity heightens as he inserts two fingers inside me, and a cry of pleasure escapes my lips, filling the room. Matty joins Lyric, both standing now, watching our intimate dance, their desire mirrored in their expressions.
Desmond’s free hand finds my breast, pulling at a nipple and removing the clamps, while his other continues working my clit. The dual sensations send shivers down my spine, and my hips instinctively buck into his touch. The pleasure builds with each pass of his fingers, bringing me closer to the edge of a powerful orgasm.
“Look how wet you are, kitten,” he rumbles in my ear, his words fueling my desire even more. “I can smell your desire from here.”
My desire for him reaches a fever pitch, and I arch, craving more, but when the intensity peaks, he withdraws his hands, leaving me teetering on the edge. My eyes burn with unshed tears of frustration. They have teased me for far too long, and I need him now.
I hear a zipper behind me, and I swallow nervously. His hand lands on my ass, the sting blending with pleasure, making me gasp. “Breathe,” he whispers, his voice a soothing anchor in this whirlwind of sensations.
My breath comes in quick, shallow gasps as pleasure and need course through me. Desmond’s hot, throbbing cock teases my entrance, and I can’t help but whimper, my eyes seeking solace in Matty and Lyric’s gazes.
He doesn’t thrust wildly, defying my expectations. Instead, he eases into me slowly, his thickness filling me perfectly. The deliberate pace steals my concentration as he holds still, allowing me to adjust to the incredible sensation of being filled by him.
Every movement is deliberate, each small stroke sending waves of pleasure through my body. The burn of an impending orgasm builds, tingling from my toes to the muscles in my abdomen, causing my heart to race.
Desmond slowly withdraws from me, grinding his hips against mine, and a soft whimper escapes my mouth. He repeats the motion, each entry a little deeper than the last. My body is a symphony of sensations, and I struggle to catch my breath.
The pace increases gradually with each inch he thrusts into me, adding to the intoxicating pleasure. I meet his movements, grunting and panting in response, feeling the delicious torture building within me. He rolls into me, his palm on my back as his hips move in a rhythm that sends me spiraling into a whirlpool of desire.
“Breathe,” he reminds me, his voice a sensual caress. “You’re so fucking wet, kitten. Look at you taking my cock.”
My mind is a haze of pleasure and need, and I’m lost in the sensations, surrendering to the intimate dance we share.
My body is a symphony of pleasure and need, my senses heightened by Desmond’s words, touch, and relentless pace. My clit rubs against the bench with each thrust, adding an electrifying jolt to the sensations rippling through me.
“I want to hear your sexy sounds, kitten.” Desmond’s voice, laced with desire, coaxes me to make the sounds he wants to hear. My face flushes hotter, and I allow the moans and gasps to escape me, my pleasure on display for Matty and Lyric in an intimate exhibition of my desires.
He withdraws, pushing back slowly, the sensations both intense and gentle. It’s a rhythm I didn’t expect from Desmond, a pace that teases and tantalizes, matching the rhythm of my breathing. With each thrust, I gasp and cry, the pleasure building, pushing me toward a precipice of desire.
He stretches my body to its limits, every inch of him sending exquisite sensations coursing through me. I feel like I’m being torn apart, the delicious pain only heightening my pleasure.
