“Lay down on your back on the bed,” I commanded.
He did so, more spread eagle than I’d imagined. The sight of him, hard, steady, cock straight in the air with his legs so far apart that his balls rested on the comforter, did something to me I can’t explain. I felt my inner walls contract in need of him as he laid there compliant, waiting. I took a moment to collect myself, to steady my breathing before I hyperventilated.
“Arms against each post,” I said, pointing to them before I went back to the closest for another scarf.
I grabbed the same scarf, but in the color white. Coming back to the bed, I made short work of tying each of his wrists to the bedposts. Climbing onto the bed and straddling my legs around his waist, I rubbed my wet folds over his erection. I had to lean forward and catch the headboard with my hand to support my body as pleasure ripped through me in hot, fast streaks. He didn’t move, just let a groan rip from his lips.
Playing, I let just the head of his cock move inside me before I raised up enough to let it fall back out. Though he snarled at me, I took it as a compliment. Taking him inside me again, I moved up and down, taking him in deeper each time. He eventually started to match me, movement for movement as if he’d lost control, forgotten that I had the driver’s seat. I didn’t mind at all as I let my body fall over his, my hands on each side of his head, as I rode him, took him as mine, this man tied to my bed.
“Condom,” he grunted at me.
I grabbed the comforter, twisting it into my hands as I found the sanity to pull off him. I reached into the side table and grabbed a condom from the drawer. In my haste I bumped my wrist, but I soldiered forward, uncaring. Unwrapping the package and then rolling it over him, my insides pulsed even as they knotted. Desire stole my breath as well as my mind. I had a singular focus to climb back on top of him and impale myself on his erection, so deep that he hit that soft spot deep inside me that stole sanity, made me a ball of glorious pleasure.
Feeling a little out of my mind already, I slid back onto him. My hips pumped even harder as they moved in tiny circles. His hands ripped from the headboard, the silky scarves letting loose due to his strength. His hands met my hips, and he rolled me over on the bed until his weigh fell heavy on top of me. He moved only a few times in and out of me, bringing me closer and closer to that point of pleasure before his arms encircled my back, and he brought me to a sitting position.
Still connected, his hands on my hips again, he moved me, until he slipped in deeper and deeper.
“Come with me,” he demanded in what could only be described as a low roar.
The sound no longer scared me. This time it sent me right over the edge. Waves of contractions tore through my body until I, finally exhausted, went slack in his arms. His head fell to my breasts as a few residual ripples of pleasure shot through my core.
Once we’d caught our breath, he laid me down on the bed as if I were glass and would break if he moved me too fast. Eyes open and wide now, he looked at me with a seriousness I hadn’t seen before on his face.
“I love you,” he said as he brushed the hair from my face with his hands, moving them that same way even when the job was more than done.
“I love you, too,” I choked out the words, the passion of the moment constricting my throat.
“I don’t know how I ever stayed away. I couldn’t find it in myself to ever do so again.”
“I pray not,” I answered.
He rolled to his side and pulled my head to his chest. With his hands running up and down my arms, sometimes brushing over my face, we just laid there. I did my best just to hold onto his sides with my trembling hands. I fought back my tears, not wanting him to think me sad, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.
“I’m sorry if I messed up your power play there at the end,” he said. “I lost my head.”
“No, never apologize, like I said. I like the thought that I made you lose control.”
“Always. You always make me lose my control,” he grumbled as he kissed my forehead and then my lips.
“This is magic,” I stated, in awe of the moment.
“No, this is magic,” he said, grabbing my hand and positioning it so that my palm was raised to the ceiling.