Page 14 of Watch Me Burn
When the last tremor passes, he steps back and tucks himself away. I tip my face up to meet his gaze, satisfaction curving my mouth as his chest rises and falls in an uneven rhythm. His hands shake as he works his zipper. Then his palm finds my cheek, thumb tracing my swollen lips, gentle now where moments ago there was only hunger.
“Now it’s my turn.”
He helps me onto wobbly legs and guides me back to the bed. My heart pounds, desire rebuilding within me, a slow-burning fire spreading through my body. I climb onto my knees on the mattress, my bound wrists making balance a challenge, but he steadies me.
The plastic around my wrists reminds me of how exposed I am. Fear and excitement tangle in my stomach, each feeding the other until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
This is our ritual. Our game. The pattern we’ve fallen into night after night. And though I’d never admit it aloud, never confess it even in my own thoughts most of the time, I crave this—the way he strips away my control, the moment when I stop having to make decisions and exist only to feel what he gives me.
“You’re so beautiful like this, Luna.” Warmth infuses his words as his palm traces the curve of my spine, sliding down to cup my ass. His hand presses between my shoulder blades as he grips the zip tie to guide my descent. “Face down, ass up.”
I sink forward, pressing my cheek and chest to the cool sheets, my bound hands resting in the small of my back. The position bares everything—my arousal, my need, the way my body weeps for his attention.
The mattress shifts under his weight as he kneels behind me. His rough palms spread me open, and I feel his stare like a physical touch on my most intimate places.
Shame died somewhere between the first night and now. All that remains is the wild, desperate need that’s been clawing at me since he appeared in my life.
His mouth finds me, his wicked tongue diving deep. I cry out as he devours me with broad strokes and long, languid licks, tasting every fold and crease before focusing on the bundle of nerves that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. Each pass of his tongue steals my breath and leaves me gasping.
“Oh God.” My fingers curl into helpless fists behind me. “That feels… incredible.”
He hums against my flesh, the vibration spreading through my core. His strong hands grip my thighs, holding me open as he works me with devastating skill. When his tongue dips inside, mimicking what’s to come, I push back against his face, begging for more.
Every time I get close, he retreats, letting the tension coil tighter until I can’t stand it, backing off just enough to keep me teetering on the edge. I whimper in frustration, trying to move my hips to direct his attention where I need it most, but his grip is firm and unyielding.
“Stop teasing me.” Pride dissolves under the weight of need. “Please let me come.”
His tongue circles my clit before his lips close around it, sucking with gentle pressure. The sensation rockets through me, my thighs shaking and my breath reduced to desperate gasps as release rushes toward me.
Just before I fall, his mouth withdraws, and I scream my frustration into the sheets. Then, the blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance, hot and insistent. I push back, lost to my hunger.
His first deep thrust steals my breath as he buries himself to the hilt.
“Fuck,” I choke out.
He fills every space inside me. The stretch and the fullness overwhelm me, bordering on too much and not enough.
“God, you feel like perfection.” His hands roam the curve of my ass, up to my bound wrists, then back down to grip my hips. “So fucking tight and wet for me.”
He sets a pace that unravels me stroke by stroke. Each withdrawal drags against my inner walls, making me gasp. Every return thrust drives deeper, claiming more of me. The room fills with the wet sound of our bodies sliding together, his harsh breathing, and my voice climbing toward desperation.
His thrusts turning savage as his restraint abandons him. His fingers bite into my flesh, and the headboard thuds against the wall. I arch lower, spine curving to take him deeper, my hips slamming back to meet each punishing stroke. This is possession stripped to its essence. No gentleness and no apology.
This is what I crave from him. This honesty of desire, his mask stripped away to reveal pure need.
His hand climbs my spine to fist in my hair. He yanks my head back, using it as leverage to drive deeper.
“Take every fucking inch of me.”
The new angle finds nerves that make my vision white out. Each thrust pushes me closer to the edge, my inner walls clamping down, trying to keep him buried inside me.
Words die in my throat, replaced by animalistic cries. Sweat slicks our skin, the musky scent of sex hanging heavy in the air, as the coil in my belly winds tighter with each brutal stroke.
Just when I think I’ll die from the pleasure, he slows to a tease. He curls over me, his heart beating a wild rhythm against my back, his hot breath against my neck. His lips brush the shell of my ear.
“Come for me.” His free hand snakes around to find my clit. “Come on my cock, Luna.”
The command triggers the release I’ve been fighting for, pushing me over the edge I’ve been teetering on. I shatter, my walls rippling around him, pleasure exploding through every cell. He groans against my neck, hips stuttering as his own release claims him, flooding my core, the warm pulse of him marking me in the most primitive way.
