"I understand."
His mouth hovers just above where I need it most.
I can feel his breath against my sensitive skin, making me shiver.
"Ask me," he commands. "Tell me what you want."
"Please," I whisper.
"Please what? Be specific."
"Please touch me. Please use your mouth on me."
"Where? Say it."
"My pussy. Please put your mouth on my pussy. Please make me come."
"Good girl. Since you asked so nicely."
His mouth finds my clit and I cry out, pulling against the restraints without meaning to.
The silk holds firm. I'm completely at his mercy.
He works me with his tongue, building pleasure with expert precision.
He knows exactly what I like now.
Knows exactly how to touch me, how to use his mouth, how to bring me to the edge.
"You taste incredible," he murmurs between long, slow licks. "Like honey and desperation. Like everything I've ever wanted."
"Please," I gasp. "Please, I'm so close?—"
"Ask permission."
"Please, can I come? Please let me come, Vaughn, I need it?—"
"Why should I let you?"
"Because I—because I'm yours. Because I'm choosing to be yours. Because I love you and trust you and I'm giving you this freely?—"
"Perfect answer. Come for me, Eden. Now."
I shatter. The orgasm crashes through me with devastating intensity, made stronger by the restraints, by the power exchange, by the knowledge that I'm choosing this surrender.
He doesn't stop.
Keeps working me through it and beyond it until I'm oversensitive and squirming and begging him to stop.
Only then does he pull back, his mouth glistening with evidence of my pleasure.
"Color?" he asks.
"Chrome. So chrome. That was—that was incredible."
"We're not done yet. I'm going to fuck you now. Going to fill you while you're tied up and helpless and completely at my mercy. Is that okay?"
"Yes. God yes. Please."
