Page 71 of Fire and Silk
I peel everything off him.
His belt slithers off with a soft hiss. Pants tugged low over muscular thighs. He shifts, lifting his hips just enough, and his cock springs free—hard, flushed, glistening at the tip. I watch the way it twitches as I crawl backward, watch his jaw tighten when I don’t touch it.
I let my fingers drift up his stomach instead. Trace the line between his abs with my nail. He flinches when I scrape over the scar again—just a twitch—but I see it.
Another smile blooms on my face before I lean in and press my lips to his again.
This time, the kiss deepens like a body plunging into molten waves, consuming, endless. His mouth parts for me, urgent, tongue sweeping against mine in a dance of wet heat and barely leashed hunger. My fingers claw into his hair—thick, damp, heavier than sin—and I yank, tilting his head back to expose the taut line of his throat. I devour him, lips dragging down the column of his neck, tongue tracing the frantic pulse beneath his skin. I linger at the jagged scar on his collarbone, sucking until salt and musk flood my senses, my thighs quivering with a need that claws at my core.
His groan rumbles through me, low and guttural, as I bite gently, teeth grazing the edge of that scar. My hands, desperate, find the hem of my dress, the fabric clinging to my sweat-slick skin. I peel it off, the material catching on my hips, damp from where our bodies have fused. With a slow, deliberate shimmy, I free myself, letting it pool on the floor like a shed skin.
Naked, I crawl toward him, knees straddling his hips, my bare skin burning, oversensitive, every nerve sparking where it brushes against him. His cock, hard and straining, presses against the soft flesh of my inner thigh, a promise that makes my breath hitch. My fingers weave back into his hair, tugging as my hips roll forward, teasing, the head of his cock catching against my drenched folds. The friction sends a jolt through me, sharp and electric, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan.
He groans into my mouth, the sound raw, vibrating against my lips as I lick the corner of his mouth, sucking his bottom lip between my teeth. I scrape lightly, just enough to make him shudder. I want him unraveling, gasping, every fiber of his being screaming for me. My hips grind harder, deliberate, coating him in my slick heat, teasing him until his restraint frays.
My thighs tremble as I climb higher, hands splayed across his chest, his skin searing under my palms, slick with sweat and taut with muscle. I lean down, kissing the scar over his heart again, softer this time, my tongue tracing the faint ridge, tasting salt and iron and him. His chest heaves, and I feel the tremor in his body, the way he fights to stay still beneath me.
I rise up on my knees, my hand slipping between us, fingers wrapping around his cock—hot, thick, pulsing. I guide him to my entrance, the tip nudging against my soaked folds, slick and ready. I pause, breath catching, my body suspended in that agonizing moment of anticipation.
Then—I sink down.
Slow. Deliberate. Inch by agonizing inch, his cock stretches me, filling me with a burn that’s almost too much. My cunt clenches, gripping him as I take him deeper, my spine trembling as I bottom out, impaled, shaking. He gasps beneathme, head thrown back, the blindfold pulling tight across his eyes as his mouth opens in a silent, shattered cry.
I stay there, rooted, my body quivering around him, every nerve alight. Then I move. Slow, grinding rolls of my hips that drag low curses from his throat, his fingers clawing into the mattress as he fights to hold himself together. My hands slide down his chest, nails raking lightly, leaving faint red trails as my moans splinter into the air.
His mouth finds my breast, blind but ravenous, teeth grazing my nipple as I ride him, my body drenched in sweat, thighs burning with the effort of each deliberate thrust. His lips chase my gasps, kissing my neck, my collarbone, my mouth—hungry, relentless, as if he could consume every sound I make. His hands still don’t touch me, bound by some unspoken rule, but his mouth is everywhere, wet and desperate, leaving trails of fire across my skin.
I lose myself. The rhythm falters, my body moving on instinct, the slick, obscene sound of my cunt swallowing him again and again filling the room. My thighs shake, my breaths come in ragged bursts, and I lean forward, whispering against his ear, voice hoarse and barely my own: “I want to see you.”
He doesn’t answer, but his body tenses, a low growl rumbling in his chest. My fingers, trembling, reach for the blindfold and slip it off. His eyes snap open—dark, wild, molten with need. They lock onto mine, and the intensity steals the air from my lungs, my heart stuttering under the weight of his gaze.
“You’re so deep,” I gasp, hips slamming down harder, the bed creaking under the force. “God, you’re—fuck—”
“Don’t stop,” he snarls, voice raw, primal. “Don’t you fucking stop.”
He surges up, arms wrapping around my back, pulling me flush against him as his mouth crashes into mine. I moan, loud and broken, my fingers tangling in his damp hair as I ride him faster, hips rising and falling, grinding his cock deeper with every thrust. Sweat drips down my spine, my breasts bouncing with the force of my movements, my thighs burning as my body clings to him—greedy, slick, wide open.
His groans vibrate against my tongue, his cock throbbing inside me, stretching me until I’m dizzy with it. My pussy clenches, tight and pulsing, chasing the friction that sends tremors through my core. His mouth trails down my neck, frantic, teeth scraping my collarbone before he sucks—hard—drawing a ragged cry from my throat as my head snaps back, hair plastered to my sweat-soaked skin.
My clit grinds against the base of his cock with every roll of my hips, the pressure building, coiling low in my belly. I grab the back of his neck, nails biting into his skin, my moans fracturing into desperate, high-pitched whimpers. The wave builds, tightening around my cunt like a vise, my walls fluttering around him.
He shifts, his chest pressing against mine, his cock still thick and twitching inside me. His hand slides up my spine, slow and deliberate, and then I feel it—the slip of lace. The blindfold, discarded in the sheets. My heart stutters as he gathers my wrists, pulling them behind my back. The fabric cinches tight, soft but unyielding, binding my hands. I moan, the sound raw and needy, my body arching instinctively.
Before I can process it, he moves—swift, decisive—rolling me off him and onto my knees. His hand presses between my shoulder blades, guiding me down until my cheek meets the mattress, my ass lifted high, exposed. The air hits my soakedcunt, cool against the dripping heat, and I hear his groan behind me, low and feral, as he takes in the sight of me—glistening, stretched open from riding him.
His hand grips my ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he spreads me wider. His cock slides through my folds, dragging through the slick mess we’ve made, teasing, torturing. Then—he thrusts.
I cry out, the sound muffled against the sheets, my bound hands clenching uselessly as his cock slams into me, deep and unrelenting. His hips crash against my ass, the rhythm brutal, the wet, obscene slap of skin on skin filling the room. Each thrust drives deeper, stretching me, claiming me, my body jolting with every impact.
His mouth finds my ear, lips brushing my sweat-damp skin. “I’m not a gentleman,” he growls, voice low and dangerous, sending a shiver down my spine.
Crack.
His palm lands on my ass, sharp and stinging. My body lurches, pussy clenching so tight around his cock that he hisses. I moan—loud, raw, the sound tearing from my throat as the sting blooms into heat, amplifying the stretch of him inside me.
Another thrust. Another slap. The rhythm is merciless, his cock pounding into me, his hand alternating between gripping my hips and delivering sharp, deliberate spanks that make my skin burn and my cunt flutter. I can’t think, can’t breathe, my body overwhelmed by the intensity—the speed, the depth, the raw power of him taking me apart.
My thighs shake, my legs threatening to give out as the pressure coils tighter, lower, unbearable. My pussy spasms, clutching at him, and I sob into the sheets, my bound handstwisting against the lace. The wave builds, relentless, and I feel it—the hot, uncontrollable surge.
