His palms smooth over my heated skin, soothing and assessing. Then his fingers trail lower, between my spread thighs, finding me soaked.
“I’m going to fill you everywhere,” he says, his voice rough with need. “I want you so full of me you can’t think straight.”
Cool lubricant drips between my ass cheeks and I tense.
“Breathe,” he instructs, one finger circling my tight hole. “Relax and let me in.”
He works me open slowly, first one finger, then two, the stretch unfamiliar and overwhelming. The position sharpens everything. I can’t move away from the intrusion, can’t adjust my hips. I’m completely at his mercy. My face burns with embarrassment and arousal in equal measure.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, scissoring his fingers. “Taking everything I give you.”
When I’m ready, he replaces his fingers with something smooth and solid. A plug. He works it in carefully, the widest point making me whimper before it slides home.
The fullness is overwhelming. I’m claimed in a way I’ve never experienced, marked and owned and wholly his.
“Perfect,” he says, pressing the base of the plug until I gasp. “Now when I fuck you, you’re going to feel me everywhere.”
The rustle of fabric reaches me as he strips off his clothes. Then the mattress shifts as he positions himself behind me.
His cock presses against my pussy and he slides in with one smooth thrust, the dual sensation tearing a cry from my throat.
“Fuck,” he groans, his fingers digging into my hips. “You’re so tight like this. Can barely move.”
He pulls out and slams back in, the force shoving me forward. The plug shifts with each thrust, the friction maddening as I gasp into the sheets.
“More,” I beg, pushing back against him as far as the restraints allow. “Harder. Don’t hold back.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. His rhythm turns brutal, each thrust punishing and perfect, the plug amplifying every sensation until I can’t tell where one ends and another begins.
His hand fists in my hair, wrenching my head back. My neck strains at the angle, the rope cuts into my wrists, but I don’t care. “Who do you belong to?”
“You,” I gasp. “Only you.”
“That’s right.” He releases my hair and grips my hips, his pace relentless. “Mine. All mine.”
The combination of sensations pushes me toward the edge faster than I’ve ever climbed. The lingering burn from the flogger. The fullness from the plug. His cock driving into me over and over. The complete helplessness of being bound and spread.
“I’m going to come,” I gasp, my voice breaking.
His hand slides around to find my clit, rubbing tight circles. “Come all over my cock, wife. Show me how good I make you feel.”
The orgasm detonates through me, so violent I nearly black out. I scream his name, my whole body convulsing, clenching around him so hard he curses.
He fucks me through it, drawing out every aftershock, until I’m sobbing with oversensitivity. Only then does his rhythm falter.
He pulls out suddenly, working quickly to release me. The rope falls away from my wrists, then he’s unhooking my ankles.
“On your back,” he says, his voice strained. “I need to see your face.”
I roll over, my muscles trembling, and he’s there above me, fully naked, his cock hard and glistening. Blood from Abram streaks his chest and arms, mixing with sweat.
He straddles my hips, one hand fisting around his cock.
“Watch me,” he demands, stroking himself with hard, desperate pulls. “Keep your eyes on me.”
I stare, transfixed, as his hand works his length. His jaw clenches, his abs flex with each stroke, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
“Dinara,” he groans.
