😈 We awake the next morning 😈

[Th****]

The morning light filters through the half-drawn blinds in thin gold stripes across the bed, ***ting her skin in lazy stripes of shadow and sun. She’s still asleep—or pretending to be—face tucked into the crook of my neck, one arm slung possessively over my waist like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go. Her breathing is slow, deep, the kind that only comes after a night of being thoroughly, deliciously ruined.

I shift just enough to look down at her. The rope marks on her wrists have softened to pale pink lines overnight, faint enough that she’ll probably complain they’re fading too fast when she sees them in the mirror later. There’s a small bruise blooming on the inside of her thigh where my fingers dug in too hard during that second round—dark purple against the creamy skin. I trace it lightly with my thumb. She twitches, lets out a sleepy little hum, but doesn’t wake.

Good. I want her like this a little longer: soft, unguarded, marked up with pieces of last night still written on her body.

I slide my hand lower, cupping the curve of her ass. She’s warm, still a little swollen between her legs. When I press two fingers gently against her entrance, she’s slick—still leaking traces of me from hours ago. Her hips rock forward on instinct, seeking even in sleep. A tiny whimper slips out.

That’s when her eyes finally flutter open.

Heavy-lidded. Dazed. Then sharpening the second they focus on my face.

“Morning, baby girl,” I murmur, voice low enough that it vibrates against her cheek.

She blinks slowly. A shy, wicked smile curls her lips.

“Morning, Sir.”

Fuck. That title again. Soft, sleepy, but loaded. She knows exactly what it does to me.

I roll her onto her back in one smooth motion, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. Not the silk this time—just my grip. Firm. Unyielding. Her legs part automatically, thighs falling open like they’ve been trained to. Those faint heel-prints from last night are still visible on my lower back when I glance over my shoulder; red crescents she left when she came so hard she forgot how to be gentle.

“You’re still dripping me,” I say against her throat, teeth grazing the spot that makes her shiver. “Thought I filled you up enough last night.”

She arches under me, trying to get closer. “Never enough.”

Greedy little thing.

I slide down her body, kissing a slow path—collarbone, nipple (I bite just hard enough to make her gasp), the soft dip of her stomach—until my mouth is hovering over her pussy. She’s swollen, dark pink, glistening. I blow a cool breath across her clit and watch it throb.

“Tell me what you want.”

Her voice comes out small, wrecked already. “Your mouth. Please.”

I don’t make her beg longer. Not this morning.

I lick into her—slow, broad strokes that drag through the mess we made together. She tastes like salt and sweetness and me. Her hips jerk up; I pin them down with my forearms, holding her open while I work her clit with the flat of my tongue, then suck it between my lips. She cries out—sharp, surprised—and her fingers twist in my hair, pulling hard.

I don’t stop.

I add two fingers, curling them inside her, stroking that spot that makes her thighs shake. She’s so sensitive from last night that every pass has her trembling, little sobs breaking free. I feel her start to flutter around my fingers, walls clenching like she’s already close.

“Not yet,” I growl against her. “You come when I say.”

She whines—high, desperate—but nods frantically.

I keep her right on the edge. Licking. Sucking. Fucking her with my fingers until she’s babbling—pleasepleasepleaseSirI’msorryI’llbegood—

When I finally lift my head, her face is flushed, tears tracking down her temples into her hair. Beautiful. Wrecked. Mine.

I crawl back up, settle between her thighs, and notch myself at her entrance. She’s so wet I slide in with almost no resistance—deep, deep, until I’m buried to the hilt and she’s gasping against my mouth.

“Say it,” I order, voice rough.

“I’m yours,” she breathes. “Your good girl. Your perfect little mess. Please—fuck me.”

I do.

Slow at first—long, deliberate thrusts that let her feel every inch pulling out and slamming back in. Then harder. Faster. The bed creaks under us; the headboard taps the wall again like it’s keeping time. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into my ass, urging me deeper.

She comes first—sudden, violent, crying my name like a prayer. She clamps down so tight I see stars. I follow right after, spilling into her with a low groan, hips jerking as I fill her again, marking her from the inside out one more time.

When it’s over we don’t move right away.

I stay inside her, softening slowly, while she trembles through the aftershocks. I kiss her tears away. Her forehead. Her mouth. Soft now. Gentle.

Eventually I pull out—careful—and watch the thick trickle of cum leak from her onto the already-ruined sheets. She makes a small, embarrassed noise and tries to close her thighs. I stop her with a hand on her knee.

“Leave it,” I say quietly. “I like seeing you like this. Full of me. Marked. Mine.”

Her eyes go liquid. She nods.

I gather her close, tucking her against my chest again. Her heartbeat thunders against mine.

“Shower in a minute,” I murmur into her hair. “Then breakfast. Then maybe we see how many more times I can make you come before lunch.”

She laughs—soft, happy, a little delirious.

“Promise?”

I kiss the top of her head.

“Promise, baby girl.”

And just like that, the new chapter begins.

No ropes this time.

No blindfold.

Just us.

Hungry.

Unfinished.

Exactly how we like it. 😈

[Ti****]

🤤💦

[Ri****]

Wow hot 🔥 🥵 thank you.

[Ma****]

Damnnn