Page 134 of Fire and Silk
But I can’t.
She knows it.
She breaks the kiss and draws back just enough to let her breath sweep across my mouth as she speaks.
“Your punishment,” she says, “is that you don’t get to touch me.”
I can feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of my pants. She's not even grinding yet—just letting me feel how close she is. How untouchable.
Then she moves.
She slides off my lap in a single, fluid motion, rising to stand at the foot of the bed, her silhouette carved against the city’s dim glow seeping through the window. Her fingers find the straps of her slip, her movements deliberate, silent. Her eyeslock onto mine, unyielding, a challenge woven into the quiet. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to.
The straps slip from her shoulders, and the silk cascades down her body like liquid, peeling away to reveal the soft curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, the long, smooth expanse of her thighs—each inch a claim, a taunt, just beyond my reach. My fists clench, the lace binding my wrists biting into my skin, giving just enough to tease freedom but not enough to grant it.
The slip pools at her feet, and she steps out of it with a grace that’s almost cruel, her body bare now—no bra, no panties, just flushed skin glowing in the low light, her eyes burning with that same relentless hunger. My cock throbs against the confines of my pants, the ache sharp and unrelenting, straining against the fabric.
She climbs back onto my lap, naked and unapologetic, her thighs straddling mine, but she doesn’t untie me. Instead, she lowers herself onto my clothed erection, the heat of her cunt bleeding through the layers, soaking into me, molding the fabric to the shape of my cock. The pressure is unbearable—hot, slick, maddening. I can feel her wetness seeping through, marking me, and it takes everything not to break the binds right then.
She starts to move.
Slow, torturous rolls of her hips, grinding against me with a precision that unravels me thread by thread. Her hands rest on my shoulders, fingers digging in just enough to anchor her as she watches me come apart, her gaze never wavering. My breath catches, ragged, as her clit drags against the ridge of my cock through the damp fabric, each movement calculated to drive me to the edge without letting me fall.
I try to thrust up, desperate for more, but her weight pins me down, her thighs clamping around me like a vice. “You don’t get to touch,” she murmurs, her voice low, laced with heat and control. “You only get to feel.”
I grit my teeth, a low curse slipping out as she picks up the pace, circling her hips, her slickness soaking my pants until the fabric clings to my cock like a second skin. Her nipples are hard, her lips parted, her eyes glinting with a cruel, delicious satisfaction as she watches me struggle. My thighs are wet with her, my cock throbbing so hard it’s painful, and all I can think about is tearing free, grabbing her hips, and burying myself inside her until she’s the one begging.
But she’s in charge, and she knows it. Her smirk is a blade, cutting deeper with every roll of her hips.
I jerk against the binds, the lace biting into my wrists, and when I try to buck up again, she stops. Just stops. Lifts herself off me, slow and deliberate, leaving my cock twitching against the air, the sudden loss of her heat like a punch to the gut. I growl, low and feral, my body screaming, so close to snapping I can taste it.
She slides off the bed, silent, and saunters toward the chair where her dress lies folded, her hips swaying with every step. The sight of her—naked, unhurried, untouchable—ignites something primal in me.
“No,” I rasp, my voice raw, desperate. “No.”
She bends to pick up the dress, her body curving in a way that makes my blood roar. And that’s when I break.
The lace gives way, fraying under the force of my wrists, and in one fluid motion, I’m free. I’m behind her before she can straighten, my arms wrapping around her bare waist, pullingher back against my chest. Her breath hitches, a sharp gasp, as I crush my mouth to her shoulder, teeth grazing her skin, my hands gripping her like I could meld her into me, make her part of my bones.
“I swear I’ll never leave you again,” I whisper against her neck, my voice rough, trembling with the weight of it. “Never.”
She shudders, her head falling back onto my shoulder, her body softening against mine as I press her forward into the vanity table. Her palms hit the wood with a soft thud, the dress slipping from her fingers to the floor. I grind against her ass, my cock still trapped in my soaked pants, the friction maddening, her heat seeping into me even through the fabric.
“I need you,” I murmur, my lips dragging down the curve of her neck, tasting sweat and the faint trace of her perfume. “I need you so fucking much.”
My hands fumble with my pants, shoving them down just enough to free my cock, hard and slick with her arousal. I nudge between her thighs, the head of my cock brushing her soaked folds, and she gasps, her body arching instinctively. I don’t wait—I slide into her, slow at first, then deep, her cunt hot and tight and so fucking perfect it steals my breath. I bury myself to the hilt in one stroke, and she cries out, her hips jerking back to meet me.
Her nails scrape the wood of the vanity, her back bowing as I grip her waist and thrust—hard, relentless. The table rattles under us, wood knocking against the wall with every snap of my hips. Her tits bounce with each drive, her moans high and fractured, spilling into the air like music. Sweat gathers along my spine, my breath coming in ragged bursts as I fuck her from behind, each thrust deeper, harder, claiming.
“Fuck,” I growl into her shoulder, my teeth grazing her skin as I grind in, feeling her cunt clench around me. “You feel too good—too fucking good.”
Her thighs tremble, her body shaking with every thrust, her walls fluttering, pulling me deeper. I slide one hand up her body, rough over her stomach, her ribs, until I’m cupping her breast, squeezing, rolling her nipple between my fingers until she gasps. My other hand curls around her jaw, tilting her face back toward me. Her lips are parted, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed with lust, and I kiss her—hard, messy, my tongue plunging into her mouth as my cock drives up into her.
Her moan vibrates against my lips, swallowed between us, and I fuck her faster, abandoning restraint, chasing the edge that’s been building since she tied me down. The sound of our bodies is obscene—wet, relentless, skin slapping skin as the table groans under the force of it, sliding across the floor with every thrust.
She’s trembling now, her cunt tightening around me, her moans breaking into desperate whimpers. I feel her teetering, so close, and I slide my hand down, finding her clit with my fingers, rubbing tight, fast circles that make her sob. “Come for me,” I growl, burying myself deep and grinding in, hard and unyielding. “Let go.”
She shatters.
