“Fight harder,” he mutters, letting go of one thigh to free himself, the hardness of him sending my mind into a tailspin.
I twist and wriggle, try to jab him with my fingers since I can’t unbind my wrists. Jab with my elbows, kick up my heels. Bucking violently when he almost gets the head of his cock inside me.
“Fuck yes.” He gives a long moan as he sinks inside me. The entry makes me gasp. I’m so wet he’s able to insert half his length with only one thrust.
When he makes his slick withdrawal, my muscles valiantly trying to hold him in place, I gasp in anticipation of his next plunge forward. A gasp that grows into a long, tortured groan when he sinks his full length inside me. Impaling me with such authority my muscles cramp in a pre-orgasmic rush, like they can hold onto him even if he changes his mind.
His hand sneaks under my hem again, sliding up my abdomen, my stomach, my ribcage, grasping my breast so tightly I wince back, and he eases off, the callused palms gently squeezing in rhythm with his strokes.
“Stop thinking,” he orders as my face twists, scared he can feel the scar tissue against his skin. When I don’t obey, seemingly helpless to stop that juggernaut, he uncurls his fingers from my thigh and lands it on my throat instead.
He holds it still, then tightens his grip so I can feel the heel of his palm against my windpipe with my next swallow.
I can spit my safe word at him again. It stopped him last time and I believe it would stop him again.
Say it.
Say it now.
Say it now before he tightens that hand more and you can’t say a goddamn thing.
Then the pressure eases, his fingers now just holding me steady.
He shifts his hand away from my breast and down to cup the front of my pussy, inserting a finger and drawing it up so near to my clit that it pulses in anticipation. The roughness of his calluses forms a delicious friction. I can’t help but move my hips to increase the pressure. I try to twist my arms farther to one side so he can press closer against me.
“Was this what you wanted?” he snarls near my ear. “When you tried to shoot me? Is your punishment meeting the expectations of your greedy little cunt?”
Pressure increases again on my windpipe. The world roars in my ears, then sags away, then roars in time with my pulse. Desire and hunger twist together, making me ravenous for the steady strokes of his cock inside me.
I choke out one last no, a gift to send him over the edge as my orgasm hits, shattering my body with a thousand small explosions, muscles grabbing onto him while the rest of me falls apart.
My fingers twitch, almost cramping as he grabs me closer, pounding into me until he grunts with pleasure, then falls away to the side.
To lose his touch is appalling. My skin aches to hold him against me, to shelter me from thinking about what we just did. What I tried to do before that.
It aches for comfort but I’m just lying with my hands bound behind me, my arse hanging out, and my shorts god knows where.
I screw my eyes shut, trying to roll onto my side, away from him. Away from having to see the disappointment in his face again.
Then Malakai reaches out, pulling me close, tucking my head into the curve of his shoulder, one hand across my back, the other stroking the hair back from my face.
I love this gentle side of him after the roughness; his tenderness sinks into me, into my skin and bones, as I hide my expression in the wide expanse of his chest.
“Are you okay?”
I nod although I’m not sure which bit he’s talking about. The police raiding my property, the fact he hasn’t called in the favours he promised to keep Joshua safe. My body, twinging with happiness and drowning in an afterglow that his embrace now extends into something close to joy.
If I knew sex was like this when you don’t hate and fear your partner, I might have put myself out there more once Rod was gone.
Except Rod isn’t really gone. That’s just the illusion.
A tear trickles down my cheek and Malakai smooths it away with his thumb. “You didn’t use the safe word,” he whispers, tone edging into cautious. “Do you remember it?”
I snort out a small laugh, tucking my face further into his shoulder. “Red.”
He dozes for a few minutes, breaths so slow and even that listening to them edges me close to sleep, too. Then he startles awake, stretching out his long limbs. “I need a shower. You can watch.”
Said like it’s the treat, which it probably will be. “Can you untie me?”
