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“Jesus christ,” he groans.
Pushing my sweatpants down, I kick them off to the side, and then I rip my tank top off, tossing it on the bed next to me. Sliding onto his bed, I crawl to the headboard and lean back against the pillows. My eyes roam Travis’s perfect form, and I salivate over all six and a half feet of him. All muscle, tattoos that sprawl up one arm and across his chest, back, and neck, and a monstrous pierced cock that stands at attention.
He crawls onto the bed slowly moving himself between my legs. My breath hitches in my throat as he stares me down, his eyes vicious and dominating. The switch has flipped. He’s that savage animal again and it makes my pussy fucking throb. Reaching into the nightstand, he never takes his eyes from mine. The drawer slamming shut echoes through the room, and he sits up on his knees, towering over me, with my legs spread wide.
“Hands on the headboard,” he orders.
Like a rubber band snapping back, my hands fly to the headboard of their own accord. My body is no longer my own. He’s the puppet master, and I’m the marionette. His demanding words manipulate my strings as I helplessly surrender.
Hovering over me, he secures one smooth, leather cuff to my wrist, tightening just enough that I’m unable to slip my hand out. Threading the chain around the top rail of the headboard, he grips my other hand, securing it just as tight.
My breathing speeds up and I find myself bucking my hips, trying to slide myself down the bed. I need him against me. I need the friction. I’m dripping with anticipation and the wait is killing me.
Reaching back over to the nightstand, he grabs something else but I’m looking at his eyes not his hands, entirely lost in a trance.
Producing a gun, he brings it between us and I gasp.
“You wanted a gun, red? You got one.”
His upper lip twitches and I watch intently as he quickly ejects the magazine, tossing it on the nightstand. An audible click fills my ears as he pulls back the slide and turns his wrist quickly, dropping a round into his palm. Setting the round on the nightstand, he moves the slide back in place and lays the side of the gun against my heaving chest.
“This is yours. And tonight, you’re going to get…acquainted.”
I don’t know what he means by that, but I lick my lips and the wetness pooling between my thighs is proof of how fucked I am for this man.
Sliding the cool metal down my body slowly, I gasp when it brushes against my pussy. My body shakes and shivers between heavy breaths as he drags the barrel of the gun down my slit, toying at my entrance with the tip. Apparently somewhere along the line, I lost my sanity, because my hips move, grinding forward, trying to press myself onto the gun. But my hands are secured in place and I can only move so far.
Just when I begin to think he’s fucking with me, he pushes forward and I whimper as the cool metal barrel slips inside of me. Holding it in place, he tilts his head, glaring down at me with that unhinged look in his eyes.
“Please,” I whine.
“Beg for it.”
“Please, daddy.”
“Not good enough,” he growls as he pulls the gun from my pussy and holds it up in the moonlight. The barrel is drenched in my arousal and I swear to god I hear a whimper fall from his lips as his curls his tongue around the barrel, licking it clean.
“Please daddy, please, I’m so fucking wet. I need to come, I fucking need it,” I shamelessly plead for that sweet release, because the ache between my thighs is so intense it almost hurts.
“That’s more like it,” Travis grins as he inches backwards and drops to his stomach on the bed, his face perfectly aligned with my pussy. As he licks from my asshole to my clit in one long, slow, languid motion my entire body convulses. He groans but I hear another noise.
A door?
“I-I heard something,” I whisper, beginning to panic.
Smirking, his eyes flick up to mine as he circles my clit with the tip of his tongue.
“I-I r-really h-, oh fuck,” I whimper and my eyes roll back.
My head snaps forward as I hear the door open and someone talking, “Trav-“ the voice stops.
My eyes fling open and I’m face to face with Riot’s baby blues. His eyes are wide as saucers, and he is absolutely frozen in place.
“T-Travis,” I whimper, but he just chuckles and moves his hand, sliding the barrel of the gun into my pussy as he sucks my clit between his teeth.
“Jesus fucking christ,” I moan as he sucks gently. Riot’s face is 15 different shades of red, and if I weren’t about to come all over Travis’s face, mine probably would be too.
“Riot,” Travis mutters as he buries his face in my pussy, sliding the gun in and out at an increasingly erratic pace. “Unless you want me to melt your eyeballs with my blowtorch get the fuck out.”
