Cam took my bound wrists and lifted them above my head. I could barely catch my breath as he secured the rope to the back of the recliner. Testing it gently to make sure it would hold but wouldn’t hurt.
When he was satisfied, he looked down at me. “How do you feel?”
There were probably a thousand things I could say. Vulnerable. Exposed. Overwhelmed. Turned on beyond belief.
“Fucking amazing,” I whispered.
The smile that crossed his face was one of feral satisfaction. “Good.”
His hands moved to my bra, pushing it up to expose my breasts. Then he worked my skirt down my hips, taking my panties with it, until I was bare beneath him except for the bunched fabric of my blouse and bra.
I tugged against the constraints. Just a test. The knot held firm without biting into my wrists, keeping me utterly helpless. I could get free if I needed to, but the reality of my immobility hit me hard. I couldn’t reach for him. I couldn’t hide. Couldn’t do anything but lie there and let him look at me...
It made everything more intense.
He knelt between my legs on the recliner and slowly undid his zipper.
His gaze locked on mine as he freed himself from his jeans. The sight of him, thick and hard, punched the air from my lungs. He wrapped his hand around his cock and gave a slow stroke, base to tip, his thumb circling the head.
“God, Em,” he murmured, voice gravel-low. “You look fucking gorgeous like this. Tied up for me. All flushed and open.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, but I arched into the words, my body begging without shame. The rope tugged at my wrists when I strained, a delicious pull that grounded me in the moment. I watched him pump himself again, deliberate and unhurried, his muscles flexing under that olive skin. Each slide of his hand made my core clench, empty and aching.
My hips lifted off the leather. A reflex. I wanted his hands on me so badly I burned with it. All I could do was lay there, though, breath heaving, and let him see everything I usually tried to keep in the dark.
He leaned forward, still stroking himself. His free hand traced my inner thigh, nails grazing just enough to sparkelectricity. “So responsive. I could watch you squirm all fucking day.”
“Don’t tease.” The words tumbled out, half plea, half demand.
A chuckle rumbled from his chest. He settled closer, fingers swiping between my legs, parting me with ease. Slick from before, I knew he’d feel it. One finger circled my clit, light at first, like testing a flame.
I gasped, hips bucking. “Cam.”
“That’s it.” He pressed firmer, rubbing in tight loops that sent sparks shooting up my spine. “Let me hear you.”
The pressure built fast. He alternated strokes, sometimes flicking over my sensitive clit, other times pinching gently before soothing with his thumb. My breaths came in sharp bursts, thighs trembling as he worked me higher. His fingers splayed over my pussy and he dipped lower to gather more wetness, then dragged it back to swirl around that swollen point.
“Please.” It came out as a whine, tears pricking my eyes. The edge hovered so close, desire twisting into something raw, almost painful. “I need...”
“Shh.” He quickened the rhythm, his own strokes faltering as he watched my face. “I’ve got you. Come on, Em. Show me how bad you want it.”
A sob escaped, my body coiling tight. There was no let up, he kept rubbing circles that blurred into friction, until I shattered, waves crashing through me in shuddering pulses.
He eased back, shoulders heaving. Fumbled in his pocket for a condom. I caught the foil packet’s tear, his quick roll down the length. Solid. Ready.
The recliner groaned under his weight as he braced his hands on the armrests. He loomed over me, a wall of solid muscle and intent. He didn’t rush. Instead, he pressed forward until I felt the blunt pressure at my entrance, his gaze burning into mine.He was waiting for me to look away. To flinch. When I didn’t, he pushed in slow. Claiming me inch by inch.
“Fuck,” he groaned, bottoming out. “So tight. Perfect.”
I moaned, adjusting to the stretch, the fullness. He held still a beat, letting us both breathe. Then he withdrew halfway, thrust back in with control. The angle hit deep, rocking the chair.
“Yes.” My voice cracked.
He set a harsh rhythm, hips snapping forward. Each drive ground against that spot inside, building friction anew. Hands gripping the arms, his biceps bulged, veins standing out. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping onto my collarbone.
“Harder.” I pulled at the ropes, chasing more.
He obliged, pounding into me. The slap of skin echoed, mixed with our gasps. He shifted, angling to rub my clit with every plunge. Heat spiraled again, faster this time.
