Page 13 of Watch Me Burn
“That’s it, beautiful.” He presses his shins against the mattress, his fist pumping faster. “Show me how good it feels.”
The world narrows to just this man. I’m drowning in sensation now, my body moving on instinct as my hips chase my touch. Each breath scrapes from my throat. Sweat beads on my chest as heat blooms beneath my skin.
He freezes, his muscles locking as his climax threatens. A growl tears from his chest as his fingers circle the base of his cock in a punishing grip, fighting his own release. Every line of his face speaks of desperate need barely held in check.
His rigid control strips away mine, and the coil in my belly snaps without warning. White-hot pleasure crashes through every nerve as my back bows off the bed, and I surrender to its tide. My fingers dance against my swollen flesh, and my voice shatters, my walls pulsing around emptiness, desperate to be filled.
My hips buck against my hand, chasing each aftershock as I come with a cry that I wish could be his name. He stands frozen except for the harsh rise and fall of his chest.
As I fight to catch my breath, trying to gather my scattered senses, he walks around the bed. One finger trails along my inner thigh, gathering proof of what he’s done to me before bringing it to my face. He paints my bottom lip with my own arousal.
A lazy smile curves my mouth despite my trembling limbs. His touch is gentle as he traces my cheek with the same wet finger.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Luna.”
“So are you,”
My hand lifts toward his cock without thought, barely grazing hot skin before I catch myself. The rules are clear. I can only touch when permitted.
He captures my fingers in his grip. “Time to bind your hands, little doe.”
My breath hitches, and I scramble to my knees, turning away from him as I bring my hands behind my back. The cold plastic surrounds my wrists, and the zip tie tightens. A little jolt of fear mingles with my excitement.
His hands guide me off the bed, steadying me as I find my balance without the use of my arms, before steering me toward the chair in the corner by the window.
“What are we doing?”
“I want you on your knees, but the ground will be too low.”
The ottoman in front is the perfect height. He helps me climb onto it, positioning my body where he wants it. Then he’s there, hard and heavy against my lips, demanding entry.
I part my mouth and take him in. The weight of him on my tongue, and the masculine taste and scent of him, make me dizzy with desire. My tongue swirls around his crown, and I relax my throat to welcome more of him as he slides deeper. He groans, one hand coming to rest on the back of my head—not guiding, just connecting us.
“That’s it.” His voice grates out, all gravel and want. “Take me deeper.”
His hips start a steady rhythm. I hollow my cheeks around him. Air whistles through his teeth as his cock glides smooth and wet along my tongue with each stroke.
My position—helpless, bound, and filled with his taste—sends a thrill through me. I’ve never wanted to submit to anyone before. But with him, I want this. Want to surrender every piece of myself.
His free hand lifts, brushing a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear with careful fingers. The gentleness of that touch, while his cock fills my mouth, while I’m tied and kneeling, makes my heart stutter.
I redouble my efforts, swirling my tongue around the sensitive head before swallowing him deep. Every stroke becomes deliberate, calculated to unravel him the way he’s unraveled me.
My own need pulses hot and insistent, an echo of what I’m doing to him, pressing at my core.
“Good girl.” The words rasp out as he pulls me back.
The praise crashes through me. My heart slams against my ribs. Heat floods between my legs, instant and undeniable. I’ve never considered myself a woman with a praise kink, but coming from him, those words unlock something I didn’t know existed inside me, desires I’ve never acknowledged. They reach into my chest and twist, remake me into someone desperate to hear them again, to earn them through submission and surrender, to become everything he needs me to be.
His composure cracks, and his hips drive forward with new force, each thrust hitting the back of my throat. His hand curves around the back of my skull, fingers tangling in my hair, directing my head where he wants it. No more pretense of letting me set the pace. He takes over, claims my mouth, and uses it for his pleasure. I yield completely, molding myself to his demands, letting him fuck my mouth while his breathing disintegrates into ragged, broken sounds above me.
“That’s it, beautiful. I’m close.” The words come out through clenched teeth.
I whimper, the sound vibrating around his cock. His hips jerk, snapping forward as control abandons him.
"Luna!" My name wrenches from his throat.
He pulses against my tongue, and heat floods my mouth as he empties himself with a shudder that racks his entire body. I breathe through my nose and swallow everything he gives me, taking every drop, as pride swells in my chest at the way I’ve shattered his composure.
