Chapter Eleven - Lira #3
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 soaked cunt, 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 hands twisting against the lace. The wave builds, relentless, and I feel it—the hot, uncontrollable surge.
It breaks.
My release crashes through me, a gushing flood that spills around his cock, messy and unstoppable.
My body seizes, ass jerking under his hands as I scream, the sound raw and ragged, muffled by the mattress.
My cunt pulses, milking him, and I collapse, chest flat, ass still raised, trembling in the aftershocks.
He grunts behind me, thrusts growing erratic, hips slamming harder, faster.
His cock twitches, buried deep, and I feel it—the moment he breaks.
His fingers dig into my hips, bruising, as he drives forward one last time, his body shaking as he empties himself inside me, hot and pulsing, filling my still-quivering cunt.
But he doesn’t stop. Not yet. His hand slides up my spine, gentle now, and he leans forward, lips brushing the back of my neck. “You think I’m done?” he murmurs, voice rough, teasing. His cock, still hard, shifts inside me, and I whimper, oversensitive, my body trembling at the promise of more.
He pulls out slowly, the drag of his cock against my swollen folds making me shudder.
His hands grip my hips, flipping me onto my back, my bound wrists trapped beneath me.
My legs fall open, thighs slick with our combined release, and he looms above me, eyes dark and predatory, sweat dripping from his brow.
“Look at you,” he says, voice low, almost reverent. His fingers trace the inside of my thigh, slipping through the mess we’ve made, and I gasp, hips twitching involuntarily. “So fucking perfect.”
His mouth descends, kissing a slow, deliberate path down my stomach, tongue dipping into the hollow of my navel before moving lower.
My breath catches as his lips brush the sensitive skin above my clit, teasing, lingering.
Then his tongue flicks out, tasting me—tasting us—and I arch off the bed, a broken moan spilling from my lips.
He doesn’t rush. His tongue laps at my folds, slow and thorough, savoring the slick heat, the evidence of what we’ve done.
My hips buck, oversensitive, but he holds me down, hands firm on my thighs, spreading me wider as he devours me.
His tongue circles my clit, teasing, then flattens against it, and I cry out, my bound hands straining against the lace.
The pressure builds again, impossibly fast, my body still raw from the last release.
His fingers join his tongue, sliding inside me, curling just right, and I’m lost—moaning, writhing, my thighs trembling under his grip.
He sucks my clit into his mouth, and the world shatters again, my release crashing over me in waves, my body arching, voice breaking into a scream that echoes in the room.
He rises, licking his lips, eyes locked on mine as he crawls up my body.
His cock, still hard, brushes against my thigh, and I whimper, spent but wanting.
He unties my wrists, the lace falling away, and my hands immediately find his face, pulling him down for a kiss that tastes of us—sweat, salt, and raw need.
“You’re mine,” he whispers against my lips, and I nod, breathless, my body still trembling as he presses himself against me, ready to start again.