Page 61 of The Pleasure Contract

Jesus, I’d forgotten how big he was.

Distantly, I wonder if this museum has a medical room, because Az may need to wheel me out of here with an ice pack between my legs after this.

With him still guiding me, I grip his cock and rub the tip of him up and down my pussy.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, almost sounding like he’s in a trance on the other side of that curtain.

Then we both align the head of his cock with my entrance, and he starts to gently push.

“Fuck,” Az mutters, his other hand suddenly grasping onto the golden curtain frame above me. All I can see of him are those knuckles, gripping so tightly the dark gray of his skin there is blanching a lighter color.

I can hear him panting as he keeps going, his groans matching mine as I concentrate on that one hand above me, and how I think I can see it shaking.

With some gentle thrusting and both of us seemingly holding our breaths, Az stills and says through panted breaths, “You have all of me, Lois.”

And don’t I feel it.

Fuck.

I feel so full.

All I can do is moan and squirm in response.

“Stay still,” he’s quick to say in a strained voice. “If you keep moving like that, I’m either going to come or bite you… or both.”

I can’t help it. I let out a laugh – something that makes him groan again. “I can feel that.”

Slowly, Az pulls out, only to thrust back in. Hard.

“Oh, fuck. Yes. Az. Like that.”

“Goddess, you’re fucking perfect.”

The sensation of being filled by him but not being able to see him – only hearing the slap of our flesh and the rhythmic creak of the whole bench as he loses himself to it is only serving to push me closer and closer to that cliff of pleasure that I think I’m not far off from plunging right off of.

“So. Fucking. Perfect,” Az repeats between powerful thrusts, winding me higher and higher, pushing me inch by inch toward that ledge.

“Az,” I moan his name.

I genuinely think I might black out from the pleasure. Is that a thing? I might be screaming his name. I might be writhing against my bindings. At one point, I swear I’m grabbing hold of those curtains for dear life.

But it bursts into nothingness when I’m floating into bliss, having leapt off that cliff edge, losing myself completely.

Distantly, I hear his grunting, calling my name, spasming, losing himself, too.

An exhausted-but-satisfied-sounding “fuuck” is what I hear when I come back to myself. But what I feel is Az slipping out of my well-pleasured pussy with an obscene-sounding splatter noise of something falling to the floor.

Out of breath, Az pushes the curtain aside and wets his lips as he looks at me, flush-cheeked, strapped to a bench, and thoroughly fucked.

“In all my dreams,” he pants, “you have never looked nor felt as beautiful as you do in real life.”

27

Lois

So, it turns out, because Az is a prince, he can not only get away with ordering everyone out of a very public room so we can have sex, but also gripping onto parts of an antique breeding bench so hard while doing said fucking, that he bends metal.

I honestly don’t think I’m going to be able to show my face at that museum ever again.