I wrap my lips around him. Take him in. He's big, fills my mouth completely, the weight of him heavy on my tongue. The taste is salt and musk and something uniquely him.
Erion drops his end of the belt, letting it fall across my shoulder. "Put your hands on my thighs."
I do, my palms flat against hard muscle, feeling the tension coiled there.
He takes a step forward, standing right above me now. Our height difference means he towers over me, means I have to tilt my head back to see his face.
His hands go to my hair, fingers threading through the strands, grip tight enough to sting slightly. "Breathe through your nose,dashuri."
He presses in. Deeper. Slow and controlled. Until I feel him hit the back of my throat.
My gag reflex triggers immediately. I choke slightly, eyes watering, body trying to reject the intrusion.
But he holds there for another beat, giving me time to adjust, to breathe, to accept.
When he pulls back, there's a string of saliva connecting my mouth to his cock, glistening in the low light.
"Good girl," he says, and his voice is strained, control fraying at the edges. "You okay?"
Instead of answering with words, I pull him back to me, opening my mouth and taking him deep again. Showing him rather than telling him.
He groans, the sound rough and broken. "Fuck. I can feel your spit all over my balls."
He starts to move, fucking my face with controlled thrusts. Not rough enough to hurt but firm enough that I know who's in charge. The rhythm is steady, deliberate.
His hand leaves my hair, finds my breast. Pinches my nipple hard between his fingers.
I moan around him, the sound muffled but unmistakable.
He pulls out suddenly, his cock slipping from my mouth with a wet sound. "I don't want to come in your mouth yet. Not done with you."
He takes me to the bed, his hands firm on my waist, lifting me easily. Positions me on all fours, my hands and knees sinking into the soft mattress.
He crosses my wrists behind my back, the position making my shoulders stretch, my spine arch. Loops the belt around them, securing them together.
I'm pinned again. Helpless. At his mercy.
And I've never felt safer.
Then he's behind me, his body heat radiating against my back. His cock presses in, the stretch familiar now but still intense, still overwhelming.
He uses the belt as leverage, pulling my arms back as he thrusts, the position forcing me to take him deeper.
I feel something wet on my other hole. His spit, warm and slick.
Then his finger pressing there, breaching slowly, carefully.
The sensation is foreign and intense and somehow perfect.
I come. Hard. Unexpectedly. My body clenching around him, pleasure ripping through me so suddenly I don't have time to prepare for it.
"Dirty girl," he says, his voice rough with approval and satisfaction. "You like having all your holes played with, don't you?"
"Yes!" I scream, past caring how loud I am, past caring about anything except this feeling. "Yes!"
He comes then, his body going tense behind me, his grip on the belt tightening as his rhythm falters and breaks.
We collapse on the bed together, both breathing hard, sweat-slicked and spent.
