“Fuck, that’s beautiful.” His voice was wrecked. “One more, sweetheart. Give me one more.”
I was gone. There was no room for insecurity or fear, only a wash of vibrant, blinding color behind my eyelids. It was like standing in the center of a splash painting, chaotic and beautiful and all-consuming.
He was relentless, his hips pistoning as he fucked me harder, faster. His fingers never left my clit, working me with the same steady pressure that had already made me come twice. My body was shaking, overwhelmed, but the pleasure kept building impossibly higher.
“Come on, sweetheart. Give it to me. I want to feel you fall apart one more time.”
The third orgasm didn’t crash over me so much as detonate. Every muscle in my body seized as pleasure whited out my vision and scrambled my brain. I heard myself screaming but couldn’t stop, couldn’t control any part of my response. I was completely undone, shattered, remade in the space between one heartbeat and the next.
I felt Cam thrust deep one final time, felt him pulse inside me as he came with a groan that was torn from his chest. Then his weight was against my back, both of us gasping for air, both of us trembling with aftershocks.
“Holy fuck,” he breathed against my shoulder. “Emily. Jesus Christ.”
I couldn’t respond. Couldn’t form words. My brain had completely short-circuited, leaving nothing but blissful emptiness and the feeling of being absolutely, perfectly used.
After a long moment, he carefully pulled out and I whimpered at the loss. “Sshh,” he murmured. “Hold on, sweetheart. Let me get you untied.”
His hands were gentle as he worked the knots at my ankles, murmuring soft reassurances I couldn’t quite process. When mylegs were free, he carefully helped me stand upright, supporting my weight when my knees threatened to give out.
“Easy. I’ve got you.”
He turned me around and I swayed into him. His fingers worked the rope loosening each knot with the same care he’d used to tie them. When the final loop fell away, my arms dropped heavily to my sides, muscles protesting after being held in place for so long.
“Let me see.” He took my wrists gently, examining the red marks there. His thumbs traced over the indentations with a feather-light touch, his brow furrowed with concern. “Does it hurt?”
“No.” My voice was hoarse, wrecked. “Feels good.”
He made a low sound and lifted my wrists to his mouth, pressing kisses to each mark. I felt something warm and overwhelming that I couldn’t name through the haze of endorphins flooding my system.
“Come here.”
He guided me onto the bed properly this time, laying me down on my back before disappearing into the bathroom. I heard water running and then he was back with a warm washcloth, cleaning between my legs with gentle efficiency. I should have been embarrassed but I was too blissed out to care, too floaty to do anything but lie there and let him take care of me.
When he was done, he climbed into bed beside me, immediately pulling me into his arms. I went willingly, tucking myself against him and letting out a long, shaky breath.
“How’re you doing?” His hand stroked up and down my spine in a soothing rhythm.
“Mmm.” It was all I could manage. My brain felt like cotton, soft and fuzzy and incapable of forming complete thoughts.
“That’s not a color, sweetheart.”
A laugh bubbled up. “Jade.”
“Jade?” He sounded amused.
“Light green. Soft. Good.” I could barely string the words together.
“Jade works.” His lips pressed against my forehead. “You did so good, Em. So fucking good for me.”
I hummed in contentment, burrowing deeper into his warmth. Every muscle in my body felt loose and heavy, like I’d melted into the mattress. The usual chatter in my head had gone completely silent, leaving nothing but a peaceful, drifting sensation.
His hand continued its slow path up and down my back, occasionally detaching to rub gentle circles on my shoulders or trace patterns on my arms. Checking in without words, making sure I was okay.
Something was trying to surface through the fog in my brain. Words he’d said earlier, important words, but I couldn’t quite grasp them. They slipped away every time I tried to focus, dissolving back into the warm haze of post-orgasmic bliss.
It didn’t matter. Not right now. Right now, there was just this: his arms around me, his heartbeat under my ear, the delicious ache in my muscles and the rope marks on my wrists that I could still feel.
I let my eyes drift closed, let myself float in the safety of his embrace. My breathing synced with his, slow and deep and easy. The last threads of tension I’d been carrying for weeks, maybe years, finally released their hold.
