Page 77 of Borden 3

She grinned. “I was.”

He choked down a laugh, too fucking horny to get his thoughts straight. And now she was blindfolded, and her body was his for the taking. All of it. In this quiet little room, steps away from bustling workers and relaxed diners. He knelt down in front, gripping his cock through his pants as he pressed his lips against the crazed pulse in her neck. Her lips were parted, but she’d held her breath.

“Silly little hell-cat. After I rip that thong off you and pocket them, I’ll be coming so hard inside your tight pussy. Where will all that cum go when you limp out of here?” He bit at her bottom lip gently. “Straight down your legs, and this dress is awfully short.”

She reddened impossibly, the amusement long gone. Partly aroused, partly horrified. It was the perfect combination.

“Either you’ll lick it all up, or you’ll let everyone see. I’ll leave that for you to decide.”

Borden slowly pulled down her bra cups, releasing her beautiful tits. He squeezed one and then the other. They were full, her nipples hard. He flicked a tongue along one of them and she let out a throaty moan.

He pulled back now and stood back up. Grabbing at her ponytail, he messed up her silly fucking updo, making sure it fell and framed her heart shaped face. Then he grabbed a chunk of her hair and steered her across the room. She crawled obediently, saying nothing, her breaths the only sound in the room. It was so fucking hot.

Midway through the crawl, he wrapped an arm around her waist and picked her up. He carefully set her down on the sofa so her head was hanging off one arm and her ass was high in the air, angled toward him.

Then he strode around the room a few times, his cock bursting with the need to fuck her. She didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. She knew the fucking drill. He rubbed at his face, trying his damned hardest to control himself. He looked at her sexy body, and he almost wanted to drop to his fucking knees and pray to it.

All mine.

Such feverish thoughts ripped through him. He trembled from the sheer possessiveness he felt. Her pleasure was all his. His pleasure was all hers. He wanted to touch himself, but that would only rob himself of her touch on him.

Oh, he loved this sweet torture.

He went to her and, like opening a treasure, he carefully slid her red thong down her legs, leaving them bunched around her knees. He had wanted to be rough, but now that he was touching her, he worshipped every inch of her skin, running his hands over her.

“I revere you, Emma,” he whispered. He felt her tense beneath him, his words affecting her. He knelt down and buried his face between her legs, tasting her wet pussy. She let out a breathy moan, and his fingers dug into her ass cheeks as he devoured her.

“Borden,” she gasped.

He didn’t even leave her hanging. He let her orgasm rip through her body, and she trembled like a little earthquake around him.

This was supposed to take a while.

But he was too pent up. She was the only thing in his entire life he could not fight against. She tempted him with every look, every breath, every touch, and he…he could not fight against it. Like that fucking picture, she was a wave crashing into him, and he…he was the helpless fucking cliff, absorbing the shockwaves.

And like that wave, every time she slammed into him, she chipped away at his hardness. She took more of his soul, even when he had offered it whole to her. She dug deeper, finding the roots, pulling them out with such feverish need, he felt powerless and stricken.

So when he pulled down his pants and fucked her, he did not do it the way he anticipated.

He did it slowly.

Feeling her walls clench him, the soft sounds flooding the air around him. Her moans and his name spilled from her mouth like sweet ecstasy.

“My name, Emma,” he groaned raggedly.

“Marcus.”

His cock twitched, and he slammed into her now, the need spreading through him like a heated blanket. “Again.”

“Marcus.”

And she said it so passionately. He could feel his facade slip. The mask he wore for the world to see was gone, and it was just him—Marcus—and her—his Emma—enjoying each other in this little space, in a shitty city, in a shitty world that made no sense.

Pulling out of her, he took a seat on the sofa and moved her over top of him. He kept the blindfold on because he was worried what she might see. He wasn’t ready for that. She sat on his lap, taking in his cock with such ease, she was made for him. She bounced on his cock and he hugged her, her bare tits pressed against his suited shirt. He watched her face contort and her lips spread. He watched her face closely, every visible feature transforming before his eyes as she came hard on him. She tightened so impossibly, she milked his cock, and he came into her with his face buried in her neck, his teeth grazing her throat.

As if sensing his moment of vulnerability, she didn’t remove the blindfold straightaway. She collapsed into him, resting her head against his chest as he delicately stroked her back.

“Borden,” she breathed raggedly, catching her breath.

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