And then he does it again. Devours me. Brings me right to the edge. And—
“Now,” he commands, and his tongue flicks hard over my clit.
I shatter.
Flashes of light fill my vision—
Too much—
Can’t—
Falling—
The orgasm rips through me, violent and blinding.
My back arches right off the bed, lifting his head, a raw scream tearing from my throat as the pleasuredetonates.
Just wave after fucking wave.
Too much.
I feel wetness bursting forth with each pulse. This gushing, hot, uncontrollable wetness. Soaking the sheets, his chin, everything.
Oh.
Oh no.
No no no.
The aftermath is a haze of panting breaths and trembling limbs. Marco releases my wrists, pulling at the silk ties so they fall loose. I fumble frantically for the blindfold, tearing it off.
Light stings my eyes.
The room swims into focus. His dark gaze is locked on mine, his mouth glistening. Mortification floods me.
“That was,” I stammer. “Oh shit. I think I just—peedon you. Oh God, Marco, I’msosorry—”
He laughs, low and unbothered, wiping his jaw with the back of his hand. “You didn’t pee. You squirted. There’s a difference.”
“I don’t believe you.” Heat scalds my cheeks. I’m trying to pull the blindfold off but my hands are still tied. “Let me up. I need to clean up.”
He stands. He’s still fully dressed, but I can clearly see his cock bulging in his tight jeans.
“Come here,” he says, grabbing my hand and guiding me to the en suite bathroom. The tiles are cool under my bare feet.
“This is humiliating,” I tell him.
“It’s not.” He’s matter-of-fact about it. Turning on the light. He nudges me toward the toilet. “Sit. Try to pee.”
“Marco...”
“Humor me,” he insists.
I sit because arguing feels pointless when I’m naked and mortified and still shaking from what just happened.
I try to pee. Nothing comes out.
“See?” He’s leaning against the counter watching me like this is totally normal. “Not urine.”
