It’s as if he knows how much I love feeling him on me, pinning me down. It’s a sense of security. Of being held in a space where I’m no longer tied down by my body. Like I’ve broken free of earthly constraints and am floating near the ceiling looking down on him.
His gorgeous, beautiful body stretched out, the wings of his shoulder blades flexing, the muscles of his tight buttocks rippling, his thigh muscles coiling as he fucks into me.
Then I’m once more back in my body staring into his eyes.
"Where did you go?" He searches my face. "Thought I lost you there for a few seconds."
"I was having an out-of-body experience," I say honestly.
One side of his lips quirk, and he seems inordinately pleased. "That’s what I like to hear."
With that, he pulls out of me, then lunges forward, sinking inside me again.
Once again, his face grows lax. His lips part. He seems like he’s about to lose his control. I tighten my inner muscles, feeling the viselike hold my pussy has on his cock.
"F-u-u-c-k." He pushes his forehead into mine. "I do believe I’m having an out-of-body experience, too." His movements change into long, deep strokes, as he thrust into me. Taking me. Owning me. Possessing me. This is more than fucking. This is mating… A meeting of our souls.
"Brody" I whisper. Wanting to tell him so much more. Butsomehow this is all I can muster. And he seems to understand the wealth of meaning in the word for he impales me again, the edge of his pelvic bone connecting with my clit, while he slides his fingers down the cleavage between my butt cheeks to find that pleated hole.
He slides a finger inside and presses his tongue inside my mouth. And that feeling of being stuffed in all three holes with his eyes holding mine and communicating an emotion I haven’t seen before whips a climax through me. I clamp down on his cock and orgasm.
Any sound I make is drawn into his mouth, along with my breath. He’s consuming me completely. Finally. I feel his cock pulse inside me as he fills me with his release. Only then do I slip into oblivion.
When I open my eyes, it’s to find he’s undone my knots. He's watching me with a worried look on his face.
"Hi," I whisper.
"Hi." He pats a cool towel on my forehead then on my cheek. "How’re you feeling?"
“Good." I smile.
He doesn’t smile back.
He tosses the cloth aside, then holds out a glass of water. "Drink."
He helps me sit up, arranging the pillows at my back as I drain the glass and set it aside.
Then he reaches for a tube and squeezes some of the mixture onto his fingers. The scent of mint and something else herbal fills the air. He begins to rub me down.
I take in the patterns left on my skin by the ropes. "They’re beautiful.” It’s as if he’s branded me. And I know they’re temporary but somehow it also feels like he’s changed me from within.
“It’s my privilege to adorn your skin with the markings from my rope.”
He finishes working on my hands and torso, then rubs it down my thighs and legs, before gesturing me to turn around. By the time he’s done with my back and my hamstrings. I’m so relaxed I’m sure it’s all I can do to breathe.
He turns me on my back, then caps the tube and places it aside. "You should get some rest."
"Only if you sleep with me."
His features soften. He slides off the bed, pulls the curtains on the darkness outside—when did the sun go down?—then slips in next to me and pulls the covers over us. He pulls me close.
I throw my arm and my leg around him, and sigh. "Goodnight."
My eyes begin to flutter shut when something flashes across my mind. “My cookies, I didn’t take them out of the oven,” I mumble through another yawn.
“I’ll do it.” He kisses my forehead. “You get some sleep.”
My last thought is that they’re definitely burned. But that’s a small price to pay for that incredible orgasm and the closeness I feel with my new husband.
