Page 87 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

A little sound escaped her at that as she lifted up, then lowered down. A gasp escaped her as she took me in inch by inch. Then a whole-body shiver moved through her once I was in deep.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to focus, to hold onto my self-control. She wasn’t making it easy with that heavy-lidded, parted-lip look she was giving me.

Her hips wiggled, and her walls tightened around me as she tried to decide what felt best.

Once she found it, she rocked toward my body and up, letting out a gasp that made my cock twitch.

“There you go,” I said, hands on her hips as she found the rhythm and stuck with it, her breath fast, her cheeks flushed.

Her head fell back as her little sounds grew louder and louder, as she was driven closer to the brink.

“That’s it,” I groaned as she tightened around me, then clenched hard as she came.

She buried her face in my neck afterward, breathing hard.

“Not done with you yet.”

I grabbed her behind the knees, holding her against me as I got off the couch, then carried her with me out of the living room and down the hall.

But the friction of her moving as we walked nearly undid me, making me turn and slam her against the wall, fucking her fast as her cries filled the apartment, as her fingers dug into my shoulder.

“Gav,” she called out as another orgasm spread through her, making her legs shake.

I could have come with her right then, but I managed to hold myself back and carry her the rest of the way to the bed, lowering her down, then yanking her legs up to my shoulders and starting to fuck her again.

Her wild, almost pained moans told me she was reaching her max as one of my hands moved down, slipping between her thighs, and working her clit as she arched and clutched the sheets.

“Fuck,” I groaned as a gasp escaped her and her walls tightened around me again, this time taking me with her, my vision going blurry and my legs feeling weak.

With her legs still on my shoulders, I dropped my knees to the mattress, trying to catch my breath and slow my heart.

When my vision was clear again and I looked down at her, I found her flushed and soft. It was the most relaxed I’d ever seen her.

Maybe I just found a new way to help her through one of her anxiety spells and panic attacks.

“How about I draw you that bath?” I said, slowly moving away from her.

“Only if you’re willing to carry me to it. I don’t have any bones anymore.”

“Deal,” I said, kissing her ankle before releasing her legs.

They fell numbly down, angling out at her side. She didn’t even try to cover herself. I liked that more than I thought I would.

I made my way into the en suite, cleaned up, scrubbed the tub that I hadn’t ever used, then ran the water. I didn’t have any fancy soap or bath bombs or shit like that. But a tiny bit of shampoo did the trick to create bubbles, and I had a bag of scented Epsom salts from an old gym injury a while back.

Satisfied that the water smelled and looked good—and that the water was boil-your-balls hot—I made my way back out into my bedroom and scooped my arms under Caitlin.

“I was joking about the carrying me thing!” she squealed, flailing wildly as I lifted her into my arms.

“I wasn’t.”

I let her dip her toe, testing the heat, then lowered her into it.

I felt like the water blistered my arms.

Caitlin groaned as she sank in.

“Can I trust you to keep your cast dry?”