"I'm not going to be able to stop and you'll have to swallow," he warned.
She suckled harder. Her tongue teased and danced, fluttered up and down his shaft as she worked him. His hips thrust deeper. The fist in her hair tightened on her scalp, setting the ropes in motion so they flicked her skin with tiny bites and flares of heat. She kept her eyes on his. The lust there. The love. The need in him matching the hunger in her.
Then he was erupting. Swearing. His head thrown back. His throat as vulnerable as hers. She could barely keep up with the rocketing stream jetting down her throat. It was perfection. But her sex clenched and wept and needed until she wanted to cry. Even taking him into her body, swallowing him down, bringing him practically to his knees, didn't ease the burning. If anything, it only made it worse.
He withdrew slowly from her mouth and she licked her lips, her gaze clinging to his, silently begging for more. For anything. For his touch. His kiss. His everything. He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers, his hand going to the back of her head, to the ropes. One handed, he released her hair so she could straighten her head. The action sent more vibrations singing against her sensitive skin.
She cried out and he caught at the rope around the post, releasing first one and then the other. He caught her up, her legs still spread wide, still in the crab position, her knees up and tied to her shins. That left her sex completely exposed and open to him. He set her on the bed, one hand went to her belly and he pushed her back. Her hands were under her shoulders, but she didn't care. All that mattered was his mouth on her.
He didn't wait. There was no pause. No warning. His tongue stabbed into her, fingers spreading her wide, and then he was devouring her. She fell over the edge, screaming, her body throwing her mind into chaos, into somewhere she'd never been. He didn't stop as her orgasm rushed over her like a freight train. His tongue was wild, licking, slashing, fluttering against her clit, following his fingers as he plunged two into her, pushing through tight folds to find her most sensitive spot. She exploded again, fragmenting, thrown deeper into a world of pure feeling, so deep she feared she might never return.
She was helpless under his onslaught, that wicked tongue and sinful fingers extracting more and more cream. The moment one orgasm stopped, the next began to build. Each one seemed stronger than the last. Then he was once again over top of her, his cock slamming deep without preamble. She was hot and slick and screaming as he drove into her because nothing had ever felt that good.
He took her hard and fast, driving into her, leveraging with his arms on the bed while his hips surged into her over and over. Streaks of fire raced through her body from toes to breasts and radiated to her arms and legs. Every hard thrust sent her body skittering on the mattress, pushing her deeper so that the ropes vibrated and sang, flicking at her skin, taking tiny, heated bites, so it felt like Ricco was touching, kissing and nipping at her everywhere.
The need coiled tighter and tighter. Built higher and higher. Her head thrashed from side to side. He had to stop – he could never stop. It was terrifying. Beautiful. Brutal. Perfect. His cock swelled, pushing at the tender tissue, triggering the gathering explosion. She came apart. Completely and utterly apart. So many pieces. So good. So bad. So everything. She heard her keening wail, the only sound that could possibly emerge when she'd fractured into a million pieces and all were floating somewhere in subspace.
She felt the hot jet of his release filling her, triggering another orgasm so her body rippled and the ropes vibrated and sang while he lay over her, fighting for air. He brushed kisses into her belly button and over the underside of her breasts. He lifted his head to look at her, his eyes still dark with the intensity of their wild joining. "I should have been a little more gentle."
Mariko's head was still spinning. Euphoria was difficult to come down from. "I didn't want gentle. I wanted perfection and I got it."
He kissed her and then stood up, looking very male and very satisfied. Instead of beginning to untie her, he caught up the camera again. She touched her tongue to her lip. "What are you doing?"
"If I can get my hands to stop shaking, I'm going to take a picture of you. Dio, you're beautiful. I'm getting hard just looking at you." He snapped several more pictures from various angles and then put the camera aside.
She didn't have to ask – he was already releasing ropes and he was fast at it. The moment he had her untied, he began massaging her arms to ensure her circulation was in no way impaired. He shredded the red lace, tossing it aside so he could massage the rope marks on her skin. "You'll wear these for a few days," he said.