Page 130 of Carrick
Carrick was there instantly—his hands soft, stroking my thighs, brushing damp strands of hair from my face, grounding me with his quiet presence as I shook apart.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice low and solid. “You’re okay.”
“I can’t—I don’t—” I choked out, unable to finish a thought.
“Yes, you can. Yes, you do. You’re perfect, sweetheart. Just like this. Let it happen.”
The tears came quietly. But the relief that followed? It felt like breathing for the first time in weeks. I’d given him everything. And somehow, he’d made me feel more whole for it.
The moment the wand clicked off, the silence hit like thunder.
No more sparks.
No more sound.
Just the wild rhythm of my breath and the trembling of my limbs, wound tight and aching, suspended in a kind of delirium I couldn’t crawl out of even if I wanted to.
Carrick’s hands soothed, but they didn’t coddle. They pressed into my thighs, firm and sure, grounding me while my body shook with the edge of denied orgasm, the tears that still lingered, the pressure still threatening to pull me under.
“You’re doing sofuckingwell,” he murmured, voice thick with heat and praise. “You’ve taken everything I’ve given you without safewording. Without hesitation. Do you know how good you’ve been for me, Bellamy?”
I could barely breathe, let alone speak, but I whimpered—something—and he seemed to understand.
He brought his lips to the inside of my knee. “But now? Now I want you to cum.”
The words hit like release on their own. My entire body surged toward the permission.
“I want to hear you truly break for me.”
He reached down, turned the vibrator back on, and pressed it straight to my clit—harder this time. No teasing. My scream tore from me before I even realized I’d made a sound.
“Don’t hold back,” he said, voice pure fire. “I want every cry, every twitch, every fucking gasp you’ve got left.”
It hit fast.
Too fast.
My body exploded into orgasm like it had been detonated from the inside out—white-hot and brutal, a wave that stole the air from my lungs and left me suspended in the burn. I sobbed through it, back arching, restraints biting into my wrists as I tried to ride the wave and survive it.
But Carrick didn’t stop.
He kept the vibrator there. Kept the pressure on, steady and relentless. I tried to twist away, to gasp out a plea, but he held me in place.
“One more,” he growled. “You can give me another.”
“I—I can’t?—”
“You can. And you will.”
And I did.
The second orgasm rolled in like an earthquake—deeper, darker, and teeth-shattering in its intensity. My vision whited out behind the blindfold, my body bucking against the ropes that held me wide open for him, my voice cracking, high and raw, begging and mindless. He licked a stripe up my inner thigh, slow and sinful.
“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s my good fucking girl.”
My head lolled, barely able to stay upright anymore. I was wrecked. Feral. Floating. And still—he wasn’t done. I didn’t even hear the cane until it landed. A sharp strike across the meat of my thigh, precise and stinging, timed perfectly with the vibrator still grinding against my clit.
I shrieked.
