I nod.
“Say it.”
My voice shakes, submissive under his gaze. “Yes, sir, I love it.”
His hand slides to the side of my neck, firm but careful, an anchor that steadies my racing pulse.
“This body is mine,” he says.
He bends me over the leather bench, my breasts pressing against the cool surface, eyes locked on our reflection. His knee nudges my thighs wider, exposing me, the lace thong a flimsy barrier.One hand pins my wrist while the other guides my hips to his rhythm.
“Look at how fucking gorgeous you are,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear.
I moan, watching my reflection writhe, my slit aching as I match his slow, deliberate pace, backing myself into his touch.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. Once again, the praise sets me ablaze, my core tightening with need. “Now, come here.”
He takes me by the hand and lays me on the bed, tying my wrists to the headboard with the red ribbon, the silk biting my skin.
“Eyes on me,” he orders. His gaze strips me bare, intimate enough to terrify and thrill. He kneels between my thighs, his cock teasing my slick folds through the lace.
“Beg for it,” he says, voice rough with desire.
“Please, sir, I need it,” I plead, voice raw, shame burned away by want.
“What do you need Cassandra?”
“I need you to fuck me.”
He rips the thong, the fabric tearing with a sharp snap, then slowly presses his cock inside, inch by torturous inch. The burning fullness stretches my walls, his thickness hitting every nerve, a searing, perfect fit that rips a gasp from my throat.
My back arches as his strong hands grip my hips, lifting me to meet his aggressive thrusts. His scarred chest glistens with sweat, shifting with each powerful snap of his hips, his abs flexing, eyes blazing with hunger. His cock drives deep, relentless, the wet slap of our bodies echoing, my walls clenching around him, slick and desperate.
“Fuck, you take me so well,” he growls, voice raw, pace brutal yet controlled, each thrust hitting just right, making my clit throb. My breasts bounce, nipples aching as pleasure coils tight, his shaft dragging against my sensitive walls.
“Hold it,” he says, denying me, my moans pleading as he pushes me to the edge. “Now,” he growls after a beat, thrusting deep. I shatter, my pussy spasming around his cock, a scream of pleasure tearing free.
He unties the ribbon and laces our fingers, his lips claiming mine in slow, deep kisses. Then he shifts us again, pulling me to straddle him, my hands free but his fingers digging into my hips, controlling my pace.
“Ride me slowly,” he orders. “Show me how much you want to please me.” I grind against him, my clit brushing his base, sparks shooting through me.
His hands roam my curves, squeezing the lush swell of my hips, kneading the soft flesh of my thighs before sliding up to cup my full breasts. His fingers tweak my nipples, pinching just enough to spark pleasure-pain, making my clit throb.
“Fucking hell, look at this gorgeous body,” he growls, voice raw with hunger, eyes devouring my curves, ass bouncing as I grind. “So fucking perfect and all mine.”
His praise lights me up, my pussy clenching around his shaft. I love being on top, hips rolling, grinding my clit against him, chasing another orgasm with every slick thrust. The contradiction—submission cloaked in power—sets my core ablaze, my body his yet I am in control.
“Tell me how much you love this,” he says, one hand gripping my ass, the other twisting my nipple.
“I love riding your cock,” I moan, “I love pleasing you.”
His eyes darken, a flicker of raw hunger breaking his control.
“You’ll come with me,” he snarls, hands tightening, guiding my hips faster. “Wait for my word.” I grind harder, my breasts bouncing, slickness coating his cock, pleasure coiling tight.
“Now,” he growls, thrusting up hard and deep.
His release hits, hot bursts flooding my core as I join him, his low groan vibrating as he fills me, his grip bruising my hips. I savor the searing heat of his seed, our orgasms merging, bodies trembling.
