Jesus.
I grind down once. Deliberate.
Then I lean forward and reach for the hidden switch along the panel behind the headboard.
There’s a soft click, and a drawer slides out seamlessly.
I reach for the satin ties.
When I settle back over her, I take her wrists one at a time,wrapping the soft fabric around each one, tightening just enough to remind her who’s in control. I secure them to the flush metal rings built low into the bed frame, barely noticeable unless you’re looking for them.
It’s subtle. Intentional. And it was designed for her.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her leggings, and peel them down, unhurried, leaving her in nothing but her white lace thong. She shifts, thighs pressing together before parting again.
Holy fuck.
I sit back, unbutton my pants and tug down the zipper, feeling her sultry gaze on me. I push them off and toss them aside.
My hands wrap around her ankles, then travel up her legs, slow and patient. Over her hips. Up her stomach. Higher. I take my time, feeling every inch of skin, letting anticipation build until her breathing turns uneven.
I grip her hair gently, tilting her chin up. “Don’t move,” I murmur near her ear, voice deep.
I reach back into the drawer and pull out the silk eye mask, sliding it into place and tightening it snug behind her head.
Her chest rises and falls. “Matt,” she says softly.
I nudge her legs open wider with my knees, then settle between them, brushing my thumb across her lips, catching the edge of her bottom one.
Seeing her like this—vulnerable, needy, and at my mercy—there’s nothing hotter.
“Christ, babe. You get me so fucking hard.”
I lean down, my breath ghosting against her skin as she arches, lips searching. I grin, make her wait a beat, then slowly press my mouth to hers. She hums against me, drawing me in like I’m the air she needs to breathe, taking my tongue into her mouth.
My hands roam across her warm, smooth skin, greedy and wanting, like I can’t decide where to touch her first.
My lips drag down her jaw, her neck, her chest. I flick my tongue across her taut nipple, then draw it into my mouth, flattening my tongue against it, savoring the way her body writhes beneath mine.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “I love it when you run your tongue across my nipples.”
And I fucking love when she tells me what she wants.
I slide a hand between her legs, fingers dipping inside her underwear. Then I press a kiss to the center of her chest. “Fuck, babe. You’re soaked.”
She smirks. “That’s because you get me so fucking wet.”
Fuck me.If words could make me come, those would be it.
My lips map a path down her stomach, my tongue flicking as I go. Anticipation hits low in my gut when I reach the thin fabric. I press my mouth over the lace, right at her center, warm and wet, and fuck—the smell of her alone nearly undoes me.
She rolls her hips toward me, silently begging for more. I chuckle, catching a strip of her underwear between my teeth and tugging it away from her center before letting it snap back into place. Then I drag my tongue slowly over the damp lace, taunting the shit out of her.
“Jesus, Matt.” Her voice strains, wrecked in the best way. “Stop teasing and eat me out.”
My stomach tenses and my cock throbs.
“I love when you beg,” I murmur, sliding her panties to the side. My thumb glides along her pussy before I ease two fingers inside, curling upward while I drag my tongue slowly along her inner thigh.
