Page 63 of Deep Feelings & Shallow Graves

I hold the restraint loosely in my hands and return to her slowly, watching her face. “If you don’t want this,” I say, voice low, calm, “say so. One word, and I drop it.”

She swallows hard. “I want it.”

My cock twitches at the certainty in her voice.

“Lie back,” I say gently. “Arms above your head.”

She obeys. God, she obeys.

I take my time with the ties around each wrist, secured to the headboard. Not tight. Not painful. But enough to make her feel it. To keep her still, open, helpless to the slow ruin I plan to inflict.

“Still doing okay?” I ask, brushing my fingers down her ribs.

She shivers under my touch. “Yeah. I want this.”

“Good.” I kiss the inside of her wrist. “I’ll take care of you.”

I slide my gloves on, black leather, supple and snug, then drag them over her thighs, slow.

She gasps. Sensitive. Perfect.

“Do you know,” I say, mouth against her navel, “how insane you make me? How hard it is not to tear you apart the second I get you alone?” I bite her hip, hard enough to bruise.

“Do it,” she whispers.

My hand flies to her throat. I don’t squeeze. Not yet. Just let her feel the weight of me.

Her lips part. Her eyes flutter.

“Sweet little dove,” I say. “You’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you?”

She whimpers. I reward her with two fingers inside her.

She arches, wrists straining in the ties, and it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” I tell her, voice dark. “But not just for me. For you. So you remember exactly who you belong to.”

She trembles, just faintly, but the way she presses in makes it feel like devotion.

I grab her hips, and line myself up.

One thrust, slow and cruel, and she whimpers. Her head falls back. The ties creak.

“That’s it,” I rasp. “Take it. You can take all of me.”

I fuck her in deep, hard strokes, gloved hand on her throat, the other gripping her hip so tight I’ll leave fingerprints. Her body rocks with every thrust, arms straining, tits bouncing, and all I can do is praise her between groans.

“Fucking perfect, so tight, so fucking good for me.”

She comes again, spasming around me, and I don’t stop. I choke her just enough to feel her twitch, her mouth drops open in a silent cry and when she starts to come again, I use every ounce of control not to spill inside her. I let out a broken groan and a bite her neck.

She’s boneless beneath me. Breathless. Glowing.

I should untie her. I should whisper soft things and gather her close and tell her how good she was. But I’m not done with her. Not when she said my name like that. Not when I haven’t carved it deep enough to echo.

Because when she shuddered through that last orgasm, she moaned my name, and I felt the weight of her wrapped around my cock and decided I need more. Need all of her. Again. Rougher. Deeper.

I pull out, slow, and she whines at the loss.

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