“Julius, please.” She wasn’t above begging. Not if it would get her relief.
His finger slid inside her, oil making the passage easy. A second finger joined it, and Julius slickened her inside and out.
He slowed the finger at her clit, and Amanda used the coverlet to muffle her scream. Julius pulled his fingers from her opening. Just as slowly, he pushed back in, but this time the intrusion was much larger.
“Easy,” Julius murmured. He reached around her hip and stroked her clit again. “Just relax. Don’t fight it.”
Amanda bit the inside of her cheek. It burned. And not in the pleasant way like when Julius dragged the rope across her skin or when the ginger oil met her sensitive flesh.
Thank God he hadn’t used that oil tonight.
Just as slowly, Julius pulled out until only the tip of his cock remained lodged inside her. Only to start the process again.
She writhed in pleasure from his finger at her clit, even as she shied from his invasion.
The next stroke Julius burrowed deep, and she felt so full she thought she might burst. When he bottomed out, she couldn’t help the squeak of distress that escaped her lips.
He dug his fingers into the flesh at her hip. “Relax, my sweet. Trust me. This will feel good.”
He retreated. He pressed in. Each time she tried to keep from crying out. Did this feel good to Julius? Because it certainly wasn’t doing anything for her. It was too much. He was too big.
But he’d asked her to trust him. The bindings at her elbows and knees kept her secure. For that alone she was thankful. And she’d received her wish. She could feel every excruciating inch of him. His cock was hot and slick and so smooth it felt like he was covered in satin instead of that horrid linen. She tried to imagine him in her other channel, how good his bare length would feel there.
Anything to keep her mind off the fact that she was being torn in two.
Buried deep inside of her, Julius paused. He kept his hips still and circled her clit. It helped, but she couldn’t ignore the pain.
So, she focused on the good. The tingles bubbling to life with each pass of his fingers. How close she felt to Julius in that moment. There was nothing between them. All their cards had been laid out. She knew where she stood with him, what she could expect. And he understood her better than anyone. Cared for her, in his own way, more than anyone else ever had, barring her sister.
So, if this one act—she ground her teeth together as he started to move again—if this one act gave him pleasure, she’d bear through it. She was accustomed to suffering in silence. She could do it again, now, for this man.
He pulled out, and she reveled in the reprieve. It was temporary. He’d be driving back in, steady and relentless. But the absence of pressure became its own pleasure.
He groaned as he slid back in. Amanda tensed her shoulders, waiting for the burn. It came, but more muted than before. A small tingle slipped into the place of that missing pain.
On the next slow plunge, the tingle dominated. Nerve endings she hadn’t even known existed flared with pleasure.
She tried to wiggle into it, to chase the feeling deeper. Her bindings wouldn’t allow it, so she sagged into the bed. Her only obligation at the moment was to feel. She didn’t have to worry about anything more.
Julius moved both hands to her hips, controlling her movements completely. She’d allowed this man to wrap her up like a bow, and each slow stroke unraveled her piece by piece.
The last bit of tension seeped from her body. She gave up the final illusion of control. When he bottomed out again, she couldn’t contain the small cry of pleasure.
***
Amanda wasn’t enjoying this. A bead of sweat gathered at Julius’s temple and trickled to his jaw. It landed on her upturned rump.
Julius bit back a groan. By the gods, her arse was magnificent. Pert, with padding in just the right places. And bound as she was, it was offered up perfectly for his fucking pleasure.
He’d dreamed of tupping this arse. And now he was there, sliding through the tight, erotic channel. He almost cried like a babe at the exquisite pleasure. His body screamed at him to pound into her, find its release.
But she wasn’t enjoying it.
So, he kept the pace slow, gentle, knowing he could do damage to her sensitive flesh. The turtle’s pace was killing him, but not as much as the tight bunching of her shoulders, her tiny mewls of distress.
If he didn’t care for her so damn much, those little squeaks would be cute. As it was, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He knew women could enjoy this act with some training, but Amanda had already had so much pain in her life. He couldn’t take being the cause of more of it.
Burrowing his fingers into the soft skin at her hips, he grunted and pulled out until only his crown remained snug in her arse. He would stop.
