I obey once more.
He pulls out and slams back in, hands shoving the back of my thighs even wider as he rails in and out in a rapid tempo, taking me apart piece by piece. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”
I thrash my head side to side, nerves on fire, and I feel so strung out, I swear I’m about to snap. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”
Sweat drips off his forehead, and he seems to get a little lost in it—eyes closed, mouth slightly agape as he brutally impales me.
"Ready to come?"
“Yes. Fuck, Mac. Please. Yes.”
He slides his cock free, and I want to scream at the sudden emptiness. But that lasts for only a second before he pushes the toy back inside. I arch, waiting for him to push it on that special spot, but instead, he hooks his thumb over my rim and tugs it open even more.
“Mac?”
He doesn’t respond, too focused on what he’s doing.
The blunt head of his cock is pushing in under the toy, stretching me painfully tight.
“Fuck! It hurts. God, it hurts.”
But then the toy turns on, humming away at my prostate. I shudder out a wail, feeling almost bruised inside.
Mac slowly thrusts. "You feel so good wrapped around me."
The sharp pain fades into a rough ache that has me grunting like a wild animal in heat.
He starts hammering away, his pelvis slapping into mine with unforgiving strength, stretching and pressing and rearranging my insides.
Then his fingers wrap around my dick and he jerks me roughly.
It doesn’t take much. Maybe three strokes total before I arch and yell, coming apart.
My body feels smothered, like a heavy blanket of pleasure is crushing me into the mattress.
Hot cum jettisons up against my chin as Mac keeps stroking my length.
“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, rutting frantically against me.
A low babble fills the space, and it takes me way too long to realize it’s coming from me.
Warmth fills my ass in a steady throb, and Mac stops moving, sliding out the toy but keeping his dick inside. He rocks ever so slightly while tracing lazy patterns in the cum coating my stomach.
“Breathe, Cal.”
I stare at his lips, trying to comprehend his words. Everything is such a fog, I question whether I’m in my body anymore.
Fingers brush my ankles, and my legs thump down onto the bed as I unfold. But I can’t move, can’t even muster up the willpower to.
Mac appears above me, drifting into my line of sight as he wipes me down with a warm cloth.
When did he even leave the bed?
After working the cuffs off, Mac sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth as he examines the raw skin on my wrists. "Might need to wrap the cuffs next time. Shit, that's on me."
“N…next time?”
He doesn’t respond as he smears some kind of cream on the broken skin before climbing back into bed and wrapping himself around me.
