He plays with my clit while I slide my tongue into his open mouth. I feel him smile as I taste him. He kisses me back, keeping up the pressure he’s applying to my clit, then suddenly his touch is gone. I gasp when he pulls away, then I feel the coldness of the beads against my neck.
“Stand.”
Instantly, I obey, remaining silent as I manage to get to my feet. He doesn’t tighten the beads around my throat; he just has them wrapped there while he holds them as a rider holds on to a horse’s reins. His free hand slides down my back to the curve of my ass before I feel a slap. I flinch at the impact, but he has ahold of me, keeping me in place. Unable to move.
“Tell me, how wet are you?”
“Soaking,” I say breathlessly.
“Touch it.” He pulls back on the beads when I don’t move. “Touch yourself, now.”
I slide my hand between my legs, immediately feeling my wetness.
“Slip a finger inside.” I do as he says, and he doesn’t tighten the beads any further. I already feel them pinching my skin. “That’s my girl,” he says, his praise making me do the right thing. “Now, remove it and put it in my mouth.” He loosens the beads enough for me to turn around, and when I’m facing him, I lift my hand and slide my finger into his open mouth. His dark eyes are locked on mine as he wraps his tongue around my finger, taking it all. When he opens his mouth again, I pull my finger out.
“Do you want me to fuck you now?”
I’m nodding like a bobblehead before I can even get the words out.
“Manners,” he says, tightening the beads.
“Please, fuck me.”
He grins and lets the beads drop from my neck as he moves in closer. I push my body against him so I can feel his cock on my clit.
“So needy,” he croons.
I lift up on my tiptoes and kiss him as I dig my fingers into his waist and grind on him. He smirks against my lips and lets me rub myself on him, making his incredibly hard cock wet with my juices.
What can I say, I’m needy—for him.
Just as my breathing gets heavier and I feel myself on the verge of coming, he disappears. I stand there, panting, staring at the space where he just was. When I go to speak, the beads slip around my neck again, and he pulls hard. I know that will leave a mark. At the same time, his other hand grips my waist, and I feel his cock slide between my ass cheeks. Then he bends me forward just a little before he pushes straight into me.
And despite how large his cock is, he slides in perfectly, filling me up. My hands go to my throat because as he makes his first thrust, he tightens the beads, and I struggle to catch my breath. He releases the tension as he pulls out, then repeats the process on the next thrust. He sets a perfect rhythm—I catch my breath, and then it’s taken again—as he fucks me from behind. Sliding in and out of me, his beads more than likely bruising my skin, his cock punishing my pussy in the most delicious way, and his other hand snaking around to rub my overly sensitive clit.
I start begging, groaning when he loosens the beads as I come.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers, the beads gone, and his hand is no longer on my clit. He pulls out and then spins me so fast I don’t have time to catch on until I’m lifted up, and my legs go around his waist before he thrusts back into me.
“Your neck is red,” he says with a sinister smile and gleaming eyes.
His words and that smile have me bouncing on his cock. My clit rubs against him with the perfect amount of friction, and before either of us can even think clearly, we’re both falling over the edge. He bites my shoulder, and I bite my bottom lip before I realize I don’t have to be quiet and scream as I come.
When he stops rocking me, I slowly let my legs down from around his waist, and he slips out of me. I step back and look around, seeing my clothes on the floor and the beads discarded at his feet. But before I can reach for them, his voice stops me.
“Time for bed,” he says, seemingly without a second thought. I assumed he would want me to leave, but he takes my hand and pulls me toward his bedroom. Entering the room, I see a low bed with what appears to be a cushion frame and white bedding. I’m surprised by his actions—all of the rumors aren’t matching up, and I hate that I’m falling for his brand of lunacy, even if I fight it at every turn.
I glance down at the mess between my legs, then raise my gaze to look for a bathroom.
“You aren’t leaving. We still have many more positions to try,” he says, assuming I was searching for an escape route.
“I need to wash up,” I reply.
“You can dirty my bed.” He smirks, and I try to avoid eyeing him because he looks really fucking good with his mussed-up dark hair and toned body.
“Fine, but I’m at least going to pee.”
He climbs onto his bed, and I walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
