Page 33 of Moon Blind Hearts
Nipple clamps. I haven’t done much with the contraptions, especially recently, but I’d know that feeling anywhere. I convulse at the feeling of him doing the same to the second nipple, and feel the wetness there.
Someone groans. I’m not sure if it’s Sawyer.
“Fuck,” Sawyer snarls, his hand gripping a fistful of my ass. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he growls as his other hand traces around my nipples, sending little bites of pleasure. “I don’t think I can resist you for much longer.”
“Then don’t,” I choke out, my fingers clawing at the table.
There’s the sound of clothing shifting, of movement behind me, and then his face presses fully against my pussy again. I cry out, shaking as he eats me like it’s his last meal. It’s the best head I’ve ever had, his tongue rolling against my clit and sucking in the exact way that makes my body tense up, another orgasm rising. I’m so lost in the feeling of him, that it makes me jump when the crop suddenly comes down on my ass. I jerk against the table, forcing it to scoot forward the smallest amount, as it traces the bite of pain it left behind.
“Fuck me!” I cry, clawing at the table. My words turn into a long string of curse words that don’t make any sense as I try my hardest not to claw away from him.
He stands so swiftly, I cry out at the loss of his tongue, only to feel his cock at my entrance. He doesn’t push inside, holding himself back. “Do I have your consent?”
“For fuck’s sake!” I cry, pressing back against him, trying to fuck him myself. “Yes! Yes! Fuck me. I want you.”
“Say it,” he growls, holding himself back, holding me still. “The proper words.”
I snarl in frustration. “You have my consent!”
I’m barely finished with the last word before he slams inside me. I scream, clawing at the table as his cock stretches me wide and fills me up. His hand wraps around my throat as he wrenches me back, powering inside me like a man who’s waited for this his entire life. He fucks me so good, I completely forget we’re filming, that this is a job. Instead, I can only focus on the sensation of him inside me, heightened by the lack of sight and the scent of the candle and the feeling of it all. When the ice-cold water drips down my back, I hardly pause, my body so high strung, that it barely registers. Not until the ice cube trails down my spine, down to the crack of my ass, and then down to my asshole. He presses the ice cube there as he fucks me, and I shatter into a million pieces.
That’s it. I’m dead. This is how I die.
I don’t know what words fall from my lips, but they certainly don’t make sense. This man has me speaking in tongues as his cock continues to rock my world, as he slams inside me, the table making soft noises as it barely scoots. It’s a heavy ass solid wood table, and he’s fucking me hard enough to move it with every thrust.
I’m a bundle of nerves, an absolute mess as I writhe and shake beneath him. Whatever is on the table is swept off to crash against the floor. And still, he fucks me, his cock stroking inside me in a way that has my toes curling and my body vibrating with what feels like a tsunami.
The next time I finish, I realize I really would have gone blind if not for the blindfold. I see stars behind it, my vision sparkling with them. As my pussy clenches around his cock, he snarls something unintelligible before I feel his warmth start to paint my walls, filling me up until it starts to run out. He reaches for my head and jerks the blindfold off. The light rushes in, blinding me for a split second until it clears and I get a good look at the mirror in front of us. The mirror where I can see him straining, his muscles bunched up as his cloudy eyes stay open and focused on me. It’s a fucking sexy scene, one I know will play on repeat in my mind as he grips my hips so hard, there might be bruises. The cords of his neck stand out as his cock jumps inside me, and as I shake with the force of my release, another, gentler feeling falls in.
My eyes pop wide. Oh no.
The cameras come into focus, reminding me that this is business. The drips from my nipples onto the table remind me that we weren’t supposed to go there. Hell, we weren’t even supposed to have sex yet. That was for later. But we’d lost control and I’d needed him.
His hand strokes along my skin as I come down from the high.
“And cut,” Oak says, slamming me back into reality.
I look over at him, see the clear arousal pressing against his jeans, the way his throat bobs when I meet his eyes.
Oh god. What have I gotten myself into?
But that isn’t nearly as bad as when Sawyer slips out of me, and immediately switches to tenderly helping me clean up. The cameras aren’t rolling now. There’s no one besides Oak to see him gently wipe me clean, to see him grab a robe and help me shrug into it. This isn’t business.
Fear strikes my chest and I quickly slip my shoes on and race out of the door.
Chapter 17
Oak
I’m going to stroke myself to the memory of her face later. In front of me, the video of Sawyer and Jules runs, reminding me that I’d nearly lost my own cool during their scene. I’d nearly forgotten I wasn’t supposed to be participating and almost stepped around the camera to touch her myself.
She’d run out of the building quickly afterwards, no doubt overstimulated. Sawyer has a way with touch that’ll drive any sane person mad. He knows sensations, and clearly, he struck a nerve with Jules.
Holy shit. She’d been perfect, raw, and so real, I have half a mind to chase after her and beg for a taste myself.
Sawyer and Cash are beside me, working on cleaning up the scene. Sawyer is rearranging the tools, setting them on the rolling cart. Cash is moving toward the table, the table with her juice on top of it, the table with the small drips of breastmilk on it.
“Don’t,” I tell him. “I’ll get the table.”
