April sat back on his thighs. Looked at him. Tied. Gagged. Completely helpless.
The scarf pulled against his cheeks. His breath hit it in stuttering bursts.
She stayed where she was, letting him feel the silence.
Her arousal kicked back up. Wetness gathered between her legs.
She held up the lube. Her eyebrow quirked.
"Don't want to violate house rules."
Flicked the cap open with her thumb. Squeezed.
Cool slick pooled in her palm.
She wrapped her hand around his cock.
Killian's hips jerked up off the bed. His whole body went taut. A muffled groan through the gag.
Her hand stroked him slowly, root to tip. Slick and easy. He was hard in her grip, throbbing against her palm.
She spread the lube over him until he gleamed
She positioned herself over him, reached down, guided him to her entrance.
She sank down slowly. He was thick. The angle intense. The stretch made her gasp.
She rocked, adjusting until she took all of him
Killian’s head fell back. A long, low groan lost in the scarf. His wrists pulled hard against the silk.
Her body adjusted to the fullness, the stretch, her inner muscles fluttering and clenching around him.
She braced her hands on his chest, his skin hot, his heart hammering under her palm. She started moving.
"It's my turn to speak," she said, rolling her hips in slow movements, finding the angle that felt best, the rhythm that built the pressure just right.
Every time she rocked forward, her clit dragged against the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the friction sending sparks through her.
"You told me—" Her voice was tight. She thrust down hard. "Be April."
She rode finding a steady rhythm. Killian's hands pulled at the scarf binding his wrists, eyes locked on her face, desperate and pleading.
April leaned forward as she moved, closing the distance between them. One hand slid up his chest, over sweat-slick skin, over the frantic hammer of his heart, until her fingers curled gently around his throat. She felt the pulse jump under her palm, the heat of his skin. The way his body went utterly still beneath her touch.
Her thumb traced the edge of his jaw, while her hips kept rolling, controlled and relentless. She watched his wrecked face.He was hers.
“This is me.”
The friction built heat low in her belly, climbing. Every downward stroke made her clench around him; every forward rock dragged her clit against the coarse hair at the base of his cock.
Her breasts swayed with the motion, nipples aching.
The sounds of their bodies filled the room. Slick and wet and desperate.
His breath harsh through his nose.
Her gasps sharper now, breaking.
