And his voice, fuck, his voice. It wasn’t just deep. It was danger wrapped in velvet. Leather and gravel and secrets. It didn’t simply promise me things. It warned me.
I want to see what that man looks like when he’s fucking me. I want to see how his face changes when he slides inside me. If his jaw clenches, if his eyes go dark, if he watches every reaction with obsessive focus.
I want him hovering over me, hands fisted in the sheets, hips rocking against mine while I’m gasping for breath and begging him not to stop. I want to find out what it’s like to be devoured by someone who doesn’t even let me see his face.
It’s reckless and twisted. I’m probably setting myself up for something I’ll never recover from.
And I don’t care.
I want him. All of him. And that want is certain to ruin me.
The need doesn’t fade. It sharpens, grows teeth, and turns feral.
I shift on the bed, and the slip rides up my thighs, clinging to every inch of damp skin. I bite my lip until I taste blood. The blindfold still binds the world in black. I don’t dare take it off. As long as it’s on, I’m still his.
My hand moves on its own, guided by desperation. My fingers trace up the inside of my thigh, slowly and trembling. I’m bare. Soaked. My cunt pulses, knowing what’s coming and unable to wait another second.
“My Wolf,” I whisper into the dark.
I picture him behind me, his breath hot on my neck, his hand fisted in my hair, that voice—low and brutal—telling me what I’m about to beg for.
Say it.
“Fuck me, My Wolf. I want your cock inside me. I need your cock inside me.”
The words spill out, raw and heavy with need. My pussy clenches around nothing, and my body pulses as if it’s already on the edge of release.
I collapse forward, forehead pressed to the sheets, and let the ache bloom. Every breath is a confession. Every tremble is a cry for him.
But it’s not enough.
I shift restlessly, and my hand brushes something velvet and soft. I lift the pouch onto my lap and tug the cord free. Inside rests smooth silicone, firm and thick, built to be gripped and explored.
My breath catches, and my thighs snap together.
He left this for me—a message written in hunger.
Still blindfolded, I run my thumb along its length. Designed to stretch me open and ruin me beautifully.
Of course, he knew.
He’s ten steps ahead. Watching. Planning. Knowing what I need even before I do.
My entire body tenses.
He didn’t just leave me empty. He left me this. A command disguised as a gift.
I’m soaked and aching. My hand trembles as I grip the toy tighter. This is what he wants. Me, alone in the dark, wet and ready, wearing the slip he chose, blindfolded and desperate.
He didn’t finish me. He made me crawl to the edge and then handed me a vibrator to finish myself.
It’s not just control. It’s domination.
My lips part and a quiet gasp escapes as heat floods my core. The toy hums in my grip, a loaded threat in silicone. I sink into the pillows with it clutched tight, hips shifting as the slip rides high, nothing but flimsy fabric stretched thin over soaked skin.
I don’t warm up—I’m already fucking burning. My pussy aches, throbs, and clenches around nothing, demanding to be filled. I vibrator the toy against my entrance, slick and swollen, and the relief is instant. Not enough, but something. My mouth opens in a silent moan as I slide it in, not gently or slowly—but deep.
God, the stretch. The pressure. The way it fills me.
