Page 110 of Unexpected Hero

Soaking wet pussy.

Choke.

Restraints.

As the scene continues, I put together the pieces. This is one of the books her friend sent her to indoctrinate her into BDSM.

The scene progresses, growing increasingly kinky.

The male character has the female tied to something, restraining her at her wrists and ankles. With her spread out before him, he fucks her furiously. It’s written from his perspective, and he’s angry with her for some transgression. Seems like a punishment fuck. And he has no intention of letting her come. His hand squeezes her throat tighter, and he leans close to her face. After a rough kiss, he calls her his good little slut.

Fucking hell. This is hot.

I knew those books would have sex, but the level of graphic detail isn’t quite what I imagined. No wonder girls love this shit so much.

Instead of advancing to the next page, Lettie flips to the prior. I focus on her expression and realize the camera is moving in slow, up-and-down movements like she doesn’t have a good grip on it. Occasionally, her eyes pinch closed. She alternates from biting her lip to opening her mouth for a gasping breath. And then a quiet moan falls from her lips.

Holy fuck.

Lettie’s touching herself to this scene.

She likes it. Enough to make herself come at the idea of what’s happening on those pages.

Does she want to be restrained? Punished and fucked while being choked?

Those are all things I can do for her.

Wait. No, I fucking can’t.

My arousal overpowers my willpower. This is far too tempting to resist. The woman I’ve been obsessed with for weeks is about to make herself come. And I have my favorite view — a fly on the wall.

Without a doubt, it’s wrong to jack off to what she’s doing without her consent.

Of course, I love to watch. But never without consent.

Never.

Yet I can’t keep my hand off my dick.

I have to stop watching her. Now.

After closing the app, I turn off the tablet and toss it aside. Rolling onto my back, I pull down the comforter and fist my cock. A guttural moan erupts from the back of my throat as my hips pump my dick into my firm grip. I squeeze the tip, wiping the precum all over the head with the pad of my thumb.

Closing my eyes, I try to push the sight of Lettie on the screen out of my mind. Instead, I replace her with a faceless woman. Someone I don’t know. Someone who doesn’t exist. Someone I can fuck my fist to without it being a violation of consent.

But it’s no use.

Lettie has tattooed herself on my mind, my cock, and my heart.

Rather than using the real-life memories I obtained without her knowledge, I place her in a scene similar to the one in the book.

She’d look like a vision lying on my bed, her blond hair cascading over the dark gray bedding.

I’d beckon her to her knees with a crick of my finger, and she’d obey instantly. Instead of binding her wrists and ankles with leather cuffs, I’d use my rope. The blue bamboo would be soft on her skin and bring out the sparkling hue of her irises. I wouldn’t want to mar her beautiful skin beyond red rings that fade quickly. Nothing too painful for her. Not at first. Not until she’s ready.

I’d bend her legs at the knees and bind her thigh to her shin with a futo tie. One leg, then the other, my movements would be slow and methodical. I’d press her bent and bound legs apart nice and wide, then add her forearms to the bindings, attaching them to the rope on the top of her thighs. In this position, she’d be restrained perfectly for me to do whatever I want to her.

Taste her.

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