Page 79 of Stay Wild Darlin’

“That’s it,” he snarled, the rope twisting in his grip, yanking my arms enough to make the sting bloom. “You were made for this. Tied up, raw, takin’ me so deep you won’t be able to think about anything but how full you are.”

He pulled out of me with a grunt, the loss making me whimper, still tied, still gasping.

“Turn around,” he ordered. “On your back. Legs spread.”

I obeyed, dizzy from the stretch, from the orgasm still hovering out of reach. My back hit the bed, legs falling open, wrists still bound behind me. I barely had time to blink before he stepped away.

“Where are you going?” I panted.

“I’ll be right back.”

There was some rustling, then loud clattering from inside the bathroom.

I blinked, trying to focus through the fog of want, when he reappeared, naked, flushed, and holding⁠—

“What the heck, Dalton?” I gasped. “Is that— did you take the shower bar down?”

He smirked. “This’ll have to do until we’re back home,” he muttered, dragging the chrome bar toward the bed, thick rope already hanging from either end.

“You’re going to get charged for that.”

“Like I give a fuck,” he grunted, kneeling between my legs. “Legs. Spread.”

I hesitated. He didn’t.

Two pieces of rope. One for each ankle. He looped and knotted them fast, practiced, then pulled my legs wide.

Cold metal pressed against my skin, and my thighs trembled as I tried to close them on instinct, but the bar held me open.

He stepped back and let his gaze drag over me. His cock stood thick and flushed, bobbing between his hips.

“Look at you,” he breathed. “Tied up, legs open, drunk on cock and still wantin’ more.”

He ran his hand up my inner thigh until he dragged two fingers through my soaked folds.

“Goddamn,” he hissed. “You’re soaked.”

I was fucking pinned—a trophy on her back, arms bound behind her, legs splayed wide with rope cutting into soft skin, pussy begging for the next rough thrust.

Dalton climbed over me, gripping the bar in his big, calloused hands like reins.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, running his fingers down the rope at my ankle, “how long I’ve dreamed about this.”

He leaned over me, bracing himself on the bar, cock sliding along my slit teasingly.

“You see this? This is mine now.”

“Dalton— please—” I gasped, but he didn’t wait.

He slammed into me. I cried out, back arching as the rope pulled tighter on my ankles, locking me down while his cock filled me to the hilt.

“Fuck yes,” he snarled. “So tight—this little cunt’s chokin’ me.”

He fucked me like a man possessed, gripping the bar like reins, pulling on it, using the rope to drag me back onto his cock with every brutal thrust. The tension made my thighs burn, wrists ache, rope biting into me with every jolt—but I loved it.

“You ever seen a bull rider hold on with one fuckin’ hand while the beast bucks beneath him?” he panted. “That’s me right now. Except I’m holdin’ the bar . . . and you? You’re the fuckin’ ride.”

“Dalton, I’m close— fuck, I’m so close—” I gasped, tears prickling in the corners of my eyes.