Page 69 of Under Pressure

“Those are good too.” She grins. “But they’re not what I want to focus on tonight.” She leans down again, pressing a hot kiss over my left pec, slowly inching her way across my body, taking her time.

I breathe in deeply, attempting to calm myself, but I still can’t stop the shudder that passes through me at the velvet feel of her lips, the tickle of her curls against my torso, anticipating what comes next. “What wicked designs do you have on me?” I ask, forcing levity into the situation. Any more of this pure sensation and I’ll combust.

“I just want you,” she murmurs, trailing a hand down my body, teasing light fingers over my dick. It jumps to attention, desperate for more of her touch. My hands automatically reach for her before I remember they’re tied. The knot is loose, easy to get out of if I wanted. It’s more the suggestion of being restrained. Another wave of goose bumps races across my skin at the notion. How has nothing like this manifested itself before? I’m the dominant one. I’ve never even considered letting a girl have any kind of power over me.

I swallow, pushing that thought aside, not wanting to examine it too closely.

“Shut your eyes,” she says, her voice drugging me, lulling me into obedience. “You can’t see me, touch me. I just want you to feel me. Hear the sounds I make for you. It’s all for you, Tyler.”

A shaky breath escapes me, my heart picking up in rhythm. I don’t know if I can do this. Submit to her like this. I can’t handle it—

“Shh,” a soft whisper sounds in my ear. “Trust me.”

I sharply inhale, nodding. God help me, I do trust her. Somehow, somewhere, that happened along the way.

She leaves me, climbing off the bed, and there’s the quiet rustle of her shucking her clothes, then the unmistakable rip of a condom wrapper. She rolls it on me, straddling me once more, the unbearable softness of her inner thighs keeping me captive, her slender fingers curling around my waist as she positions herself over me, rubbing her pussy along my length, drawing forth a moan from both of us.

“Are you ready?” she asks, her voice sultry.

“Yes,” I breathe, my hips lifting off the bed.

She raises herself up to drop inch by excruciating inch onto me, her warmth encompassing me, stealing itself through my body until all I feel is her.

I resist the urge to open my eyes, telling myself that I’m in control. I can do whatever I set my mind to. I can handle this.

Her hips roll slowly once she’s fully seated on top of me, sliding herself up and down at her own pace, leaving me sweating.

“I like having you like this.” She keeps at the same steady motion, every shift, every shallow thrust more intense for not being able to see her, touch her. My fingers itch to grasp her hips, flip her over, and drive into her, fucking her until I can empty all the feeling out of me, wanting to be rid of this goddamn insistently slow pace, every second that it continues filling me with something I don’t like, something I’m reluctant to identify.

“Like what?” I ask, trying to focus on anything else but what’s going on inside. “Docile? Submissive?”

I can practically hear her grinning. She skims her fingers lightly up my chest, angling herself over my body until her breath blows hot against my neck. “I know you’ll never be submissive. You’re only letting me do this.” She trails kisses along the vulnerable area, leaning back until she’s upright again. “You can open your eyes now.”

I do as she says, finding her gloriously naked atop me, her hips rising and falling as I thrust up into her. She shakes all that hair back behind her shoulders, her back bowing, chest on display, and my eyes go right to it, unable to look away. She gently begins to caress herself, squeezing her breasts, her lips parting, panting as she turns herself on.

Fuck. What did I open my eyes to?

I grip the headboard as best I can with my tied hands, watching her fondle herself, her head thrown back, pussy milking me as she keeps up that erotically slow pace. A groan escapes me, loud in the quiet of the room, seeming to startle her out of her trance.

But the sensual haze doesn’t leave her eyes as she leans forward, grasping the headboard next to my hands, her chest hovering over my face. “Suck,” she orders, her voice both authoritative and pleading.

I pause for an infinite moment, struggling with what to do. Do I stop this madness, rip off the tie, and show her who’s boss? Or do I do as she asks, surrendering to her?

“Please,” she begs, her pussy squeezing me tightly as she lowers herself down even further, until all I’d have to do is reach out my tongue to lick her, suck her, give her everything she desires.

I give myself to her then, sucking her like she wants, her moans telling me she likes what I’m doing. And the more vocal she is, the more I deliver in response, until I’m sure Ethan must be able to hear us even out in the living room. But I can’t bring myself to care because all I need in my life right now is to hear Mia’s cries of satisfaction.

She fumbles to undo the knot at my wrist, taking my hands once they’re loose to greedily place them on her. “Touch me. Touch me everywhere.” I’ve never heard her so desperate, so out of control, and it calms something inside me to know she’s feeling this just as much as I am.

I mold my hands to her body, squeezing her, clasping her to me, needing her closer, closer.

“Yes,” she sighs. “I need you, Tyler. God, I need you so bad.” She leans back upright, riding me harder until she breaks apart, bucking on top of me, her hands clutching at my chest as she gasps, unable to make any intelligible noise as her orgasm overtakes her.

When her motions subside, I gently flip her over, kissing her languidly until she’s recovered and able to take me again.

She looks up at me with half-lidded eyes, as I take long, leisurely strokes within her, building her up again. She brings her arms above her head but I don’t need to tie her up. I know she’ll let me do whatever I want to her, her body straining toward mine. She welcomes everything I give her, reveling in it, no hint of shame. Her mien is open, trusting.

Everything I’m not. Or rather, don’t want to be.

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