He rewards me with a slow smile, clearly pleased with my surrender. “That's my girl.”
He spreads my thighs, his gaze appreciating what he sees. I feel exposed and vulnerable, but somehow more powerful than I've ever felt.
“You're so wet for me,” he observes, his voice low and rough. “So ready.”
He leans in, and I expect his mouth, but instead, his fingers part my folds, finding my clit with unerring accuracy. I gasp as he circles the sensitive nub, applying just the right amountof pressure. My hips buck off the bed, seeking more, but he maintains his maddeningly slow pace.
“Alex,” I pant, “please. I need more.”
“More what?” he asks, though I know he knows exactly what I mean.
“Your mouth,” I manage. “I want your mouth on me.”
He doesn't need further encouragement. He lowers his head, his tongue replacing his fingers. The first touch is electric, sending waves of pleasure through my body. He explores me thoroughly, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me moan, and what makes me cry out his name.
I'm completely lost to sensation, my world narrowing to the pleasure he's giving me. The cuffs on my wrists are a constant reminder of my submission; of the trust I've placed in him. Every flick of his tongue, every suction, and every nibble pushes me higher, closer to the edge.
“Alex,” I gasp, “I'm close.”
He responds by intensifying his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his fingers joining in, pressing inside me. The dual sensation is overwhelming, and I spiral into orgasm with a cry that's half his name and half a sob. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, leaving me breathless and trembling.
He doesn't stop immediately, drawing out my pleasure until I'm writhing beneath him, oversensitive and desperate. Finally, he lifts his head, his face glistening with my arousal. He looks smug, satisfied, and utterly gorgeous.
“You're beautiful when you come,” he says, his voice rough with desire. “I could watch that all day.”
I'm still recovering, my body humming with aftershocks, but I want more. I want him. “Alex,” I manage, “your turn.”
He laughs, moving to lie beside me on the bed. “Oh, Liv. You say that like I didn’t enjoy that too.”
He captures my mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, letting me taste myself on his lips. I respond eagerly, my body already gearing up for another round. His hands roam over me, reacquainting themselves with every curve and every dip.
“Roll over,” he commands against my lips.
I hesitate for only a moment before complying, maneuvering awkwardly with my hands still cuffed behind me. I end up on my stomach, my face turned toward him on the pillow. This position leaves me completely exposed, vulnerable in a way that should frighten me but instead excites me.
His hands knead my ass, his fingers dipping between my cheeks to tease my most sensitive spots. I arch into his touch, silently begging for more. He obliges, one finger circling my entrance, applying gentle pressure.
“Here?” he asks, his voice low.
I nod my head against the pillow. “Fuck yes.”
“Great choice of words,” he quips, his finger still teasing.
The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating. “Smart ass,” I say, the words muffled by the pillow but clear enough.
He groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated need. “Liv. You have no idea what that does to me.”
He shifts, and I hear the nightstand drawer open, the crinkle of a foil packet. The sound is so mundane and so normal, that I almost don’t think. I feel the bed dip as he moves, positioning himself between my spread legs. His hands grip my hips, pulling me up slightly so I'm resting on my knees, my face still pressed to the mattress.
“I'm going to make you feel so good,” he promises, his voice a low growl. “I'm going to make you forget everything but my name.”
I don't doubt it for a second.
He enters me in one slow, deliberate stroke. The stretch is exquisite, a perfect, full pressure that makes me gasp. He pauses,giving me a moment to adjust, to feel every inch of him inside me. I'm so wet and so ready, that he slid in effortlessly.
“Move,” I demand, my voice hoarse. “Alex, please, move.”
He does. He pulls out almost completely before thrusting back in, setting a rhythm that's both punishing and pleasurable. Each stroke hits that perfect spot deep inside me, sending sparks of pleasure through my entire body. The cuffs at my wrists bite into my skin with every movement, a constant, thrilling reminder of my surrender.
