Lassies lover

[Ki****]

Blindfold & Fury
The hotel room smelled of leather and static.

Jamie’s pulse hammered in her throat, a frantic drumbeat against the cool, butter-soft leather of the blindfold. It had been part of it, the game. A tap on the shoulder in the dim hotel bar, a voice like gravel and whiskey murmuring a single word she’d whispered in his ear earlier: Now. He’d spun her, cinched the blindfold tight, and led her here. Now the click of the lock was the loudest thing she’d ever heard.

The Game Begins
Hands, rough and enormous, settled on her bare shoulders. She knew them. The thick, ropey veins, the coarse hair. They were Murdock’s hands, but tonight, they belonged to a stranger.

“Not a sound,” the voice rumbled against the shell of her ear, his beard scraping her sensitive skin. He was so close she felt the heat of his muscled chest through his thin flannel shirt and her thin slip. She felt his kilt brush the back of her bare thighs. One hand slid down her arm, while the other tangled in her short brown hair, tightening just shy of ***. “You’re mine until I say otherwise.”

A shiver, pure and electric, tore down her spine. Her full lips parted on a silent gasp.

Then he moved her, turning her to face the bed. The first strike of the flogger was a shock. Not leather—suede. It landed across her shoulders with a soft thwap, more sensation than sting. A promise. She yelped, the sound guttural and real, her body arching into the impact.

“Still.” His command was absolute.

Another strike, lower this time, across the swell of her ass. The suede tails kissed her skin, a teasing, biting caress. He worked her over with a slow, methodical rhythm, each blow building a low, sweet burn, making her aware of every inch of her curvy frame. She could feel his gaze on her, hot and possessive, even through the blindfold.

The Taste of Surrender
He stopped. The silence was heavier than the blows.

She heard the rustle of his kilt, the clink of a buckle. Hard hands gripped her hips, spinning her to face him. A thumb, calloused and demanding, brushed over her full lower lip. “Open.”

She did, and his mouth crashed down on hers, a kiss of pure ownership. It was bruising and deep, all tongue and teeth and the scratch of his beard. He kissed her until she was breathless and pliant, her hands finding the solid, shaved planes of his head.

He broke the kiss, pushing her firmly to her knees. The plush carpet bit into her skin. His scent—clean sweat, musk, and leather—filled her senses. He fisted her hair again, angling her head back. “Show me your dedication, little thief.”

She didn’t need to see. Her hands found the hard, thick length of him, already slick at the tip. She leaned in, her tight body thrumming with anticipation. Taking him into her mouth, she let a low moan vibrate against his skin. This was the point of it all. The surrender. The raw, unfiltered worship.

She used her lips, her tongue, losing herself in the taste and the weight of him, in the sharp tug on her hair keeping her exactly where he wanted her. Above her, she heard his ragged breath, the low, approving growl that told her she was doing it right. This was just the beginning. The fire was only just lit.

Chapter 2
Her mouth was a slick, wet haven, and he used it ruthlessly. His grip in her hair was an anchor, guiding the punishing rhythm of her head as she took him deep. Every ***d gasp she made vibrated around his cock, feeding the fire in his gut. He could feel the tight coil of his release building, a pressure behind his balls that demanded surrender.

With a guttural snarl, he pulled his slick length from her lips, a string of saliva connecting them. He hauled her up, her blindfold damp with exertion, and threw her onto the bed. Her curvy body bounced on the mattress, a beautiful, willing offering. He didn’t waste a second. The kilt was gone, tossed aside. He came down over her, a solid wall of muscle and heat, forcing her thighs apart with his knees.

One hard thrust buried him to the hilt. A raw, shattered cry tore from her throat as he filled her, the stretch exquisite and overwhelming. He set a brutal pace from the start, slamming into her tight, wet heat with a *** that shook the bedframe. Each piston-like drive punched the air from her lungs, her cries becoming sharp, rhythmic gasps. His name, a broken prayer.

Her nails scored his back, her legs locking around his waist to pull him deeper. He could feel her trembling, the tight flutter of her pussy clenching around him as he fucked her toward the edge. The slapping of skin, the creak of the bed, their ragged breaths—it was a symphony of pure, hardcore need.

“Now,” he growled, the command final. He drove into her one last, devastating time, and his control shattered. Heat erupted from him, pulse after pulse of hot cum flooding her depths as he ground himself against her, emptying completely.

Her body arched violently, a silent scream on her lips as her own climax ripped through her, milking him through the last of his release. She clamped around him, a vice of pleasure, shuddering uncontrollably.

Collapse was gradual. He slumped over her, his weight a comfort, his breath harsh in her ear. Slowly, he reached up and untied the blindfold. Her brown eyes were dazed, pupils blown, her full lips swollen. He kissed her, slow and deep, a possessive seal.

He rolled, pulling her against his side, her head on his chest. His hand stroked her damp hair, her back, a silent claim in the quiet dark. The game was over. The stranger was gone, leaving only Murdock and the woman who had taken everything he’d given. No words were needed. The fury was spent, replaced by a profound, satiated peace.

[ki****]

I'm just here to see another kilt daddy in the wild

[ki****]

We have to find the og on this platform and fight for the proper user name. Much like Highlander. There can be only one