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He palms my breast gently, leaning in to brush his lips against mine. Gently, he kisses them, then between my collarbones.

“You smell good,” he murmurs. “I missed it.”

“What do I smell like to you?” I let my head sink back.

“Soft, sweet, vanilla kind of,” he says. “And you, I can’t describe that.”

“Does it make you hard?”

I know it does, but I need to hear it, feel it. He sinks his hips down, and his cock grinds into my thigh. “I need to be in that pussy, sweetheart.”

“Get a condom,” I say.

He does, getting up to take his shirt and pants off. I can’t help but notice again that he’s a little less broad. I hope that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been eating or sleeping. Then, I hope it means that and it’s because of me. I love being wanted by him, even if it means he suffers.

He sinks to his knees, setting the condom on the bed.

“I want to see the rest of this,” he says, tugging down my sweatpants. His eyes drop, and he touches my hip, tracing the satin bands. His fingers end up on the fabric over my pussy, touching the seam gently. The panties don’t have a gusset, just transparent gauze, now soaked. He can feel it, I know by how his eyelids droop and his breath hitches.

“I want it, too,” I whisper.

“Oh, I can fucking tell.”

He pushes me further up on the bed. The low light glints off his hair as he dips his head between my thighs. His tongue glides over the gauze, tight over my pussy, and my eyes roll all the way back.

Something shifts. Tonight doesn’t feel like the other times.

Am I alright with this going to another level?

My head fills with images of the last few months. Bored out of my skull, dying to text him, dying to tell him every little thought in my head. Writing down all the things I would tell him in my notes app so I don’t lose my resolve. Now, here I am, in his bed in a hotel room in pink lingerie because I know he wants me so fucking badly he can’t stay away.

I’ll think about everything else later.

“Make me come,” I let out, barely audible.

His tongue slides over my pussy again, pressing in to reach my clit through the fabric. The added friction makes everything so sensitive. I thought it would take longer, but I’m building already. My stomach tingles, pleasure a tight ache deep inside where only he reaches. I open my mouth to tell him I’m going to come, but it hits me so hard my spine cracks as my hips rise off the bed.

I yelp, ecstasy ripping through in harsh waves. They ebb enough; I can finally focus on the pleasure, and it’s so slow and clear that I soak in every second of it. Through my hips, deep inside, down my thighs. To the soles of my feet and my curled toes.

That was pent up, waiting for him.

I’m limp and panting when it ends. He mutters something and bites the inside of my thigh, licking the little mark he leaves.

“You want me to fuck this pussy?” he rasps.

I nod, wordless. He pushes himself up, then pauses. His eyes dart over me and to the floor.

“What?” I manage.

“Mind if I tie you up?” he says, casually.

Speechless, I blink. That only lasts a half second before arousal floods through me, and I’m nodding. The corner of his mouth turns up, and he picks up his belt where he dropped it earlier.

“Hands together, above your head,” he orders.

What am I doing?

Pulse racing, I do as he says. The headboard is flat with a metal rod across the top. He loops it underneath and wraps it snugly around both wrists, fastening the buckle, so I’m bound a few inches from the pole. My stomach flutters as a sudden wave, then drop of arousal goes through my stomach, centering deep inside.