I kiss her again. “Morning, little chick.”
She smiles and finally opens those green eyes of hers. “You slept.”
It’s not a question. It’s a fact. “I did. I feel like you should sleep with me every night so I’m dream free.” She should also sleep with me every night because I’m falling in love with her, hate not knowing if she’s safe when she’s not with me, and love the idea I can wake up with her in my arms and make love to her or fuck her, depending on our mood.
“I feel like me being here only goes so far to help you sleep.”
I don’t want to think about that now. Or the letters from the VA waiting for a response downstairs that suggest the same thing, encouraging me to go talk to the therapists they recommend. Instead, I roll her onto her back and settle between her legs. She raises her knees on either side of my hips, holding me close. “Kiss me again, Tyler.” Her words are a whisper that tingles down my spine.
“With pleasure.”
I line my lips up with hers and wait a moment, just to smile at her first. I’m fucking gone for this woman. The kiss drags me under. There’s just me and her, here in my bed. There’s no club, no threats. Just the two of us. She stretches beneath me, pulling her frame even tighter as she raises her hands and grips the headboard with her unbraced hand.
I wrap my hands over hers, gentle with her braced one, turned on by the idea of her being unable to move. “Leave them there.”
Missing her warmth, I lean over and open my drawer. My fingers touch the cool chain of the leather cuffs I bought recently but never used. I smile at the idea we’ll use them one day. Instead, I reach for the black satin tie. Soft and smooth like she is.
Placing my knees outside her thighs, I secure one of her wrists to the headboard, making sure the tie is not too tight by sliding a finger beneath it.
“Spark,” she gasps, tugging against the silk. The momentary flash of panic subsides as she breathes into being bound.
I stroke the side of her face. “Good girl. Do you know how fucking hot you look tied to my bed?” I pick up her other hand and kiss each of her fingertips before placing it gently down by the headboard. “I’m not going to tie this one because of the brace, but I’m trusting you to leave your hand right where I put it. Now you can let go, and focus on taking what I give you. If it becomes too much, just say rain.”
“I’ll try not to,” she says. Her breath catches. So does mine when I see the trust in her eyes.
“Good girl.”
Crawling backward down her body, I look at her. There’s a freckle above her breast, and I want to lick it, but I school myself to wait. When I get to the end of the bed, I sit back on my knees and look at her. The sunlight shifts, diffusing one side of her body in a warm glow. “You’re perfect, Iris.”
“None of us are,” she replies. “But I’m glad I’m perfect enough for you right now.”
The way she says right now is like a song with a note out of tune. It grates, like it doesn’t belong. “You’re more than perfect enough. Forever.”
I slide my hands along her calves. They’re soft, not overly defined. “Open your legs,” I instruct.
She doesn’t, and my pulse skips a beat.
I stare down at her, and she rubs her thighs together.
I hold my position, my cock pulsing as she defies me. My eyes meet hers as I lean forward and slap her mound. “One.”
Iris gasps. Her whole back arched off the bed as she tugs against the tie.
When she doesn’t open her legs, I do it again. “Two.”
“Spark.” The word comes out on a breath.
“We have all morning, little chick. And I’m more than happy to slap this pussy of mine as many times as you need until you’re ready to open those legs of yours for me.”
I raise my hand. And this time, she opens her legs and bites down on her lip. “Three,” she whispers, and I slap her again. This time, right over her wet and glistening pussy. My fingers are coated, and I bring them to my mouth, sucking her juices right off them.
“Beg me to lick you.”
“What? I—” she says, her eyes on me.
My dick twitches as I raise an eyebrow.
She tries to close her legs as a pink blush creeps along her cheeks.
“Ah. Ah. Ah.” I slap her pussy again. Her clit is proud, red, likely aching. “If I want to look, you’re going to let me, Iris. Beg me.”
“Just do it instead.” Her words are forceful. See, she does have spirit.
“You want me to eat out that pussy of yours? Make you come with my tongue before my dick?”
“Yes. Please, Spark.”
And there are the two words that are my catnip. Please and Spark. Our energies vibrate, a perfect collision of need and desire. To dominate and obey. To find the joy in submitting to our needs.
“Then. Beg. Me.”
“Please, will you eat out my pussy, Spark?”
“Your pussy?”
“Please will you eat out this pussy you own, Spark? I really need your mouth on me.”
I breathe deeply. Letting the power of her words fill up the holes deep inside me. “It’ll be my pleasure.” I use my shoulders to keep her legs wide and bury my tongue between her thighs. I mean to go slow, but the taste of her, the sound of her pleasure cranks me to a place where self-control slides in favor of gratification. Hers. Mine. I don’t really care as long we’re both getting what we need.
The sweet and savory taste of her hits my tongue, and if this were all I got to eat for breakfast every day for the rest of my life, I’d be a happy man. I add my finger, then another, stretching her as I circle her clit before sucking on it the way I know she enjoys.
She’s mine to do with as I please, and I love the knowledge of it almost as much as I miss the way she usually threads her fingers through my hair and tugs on it when I go down on her.
“Spark,” she cries, and I can tell she’s getting close.
I write my name with my tongue, claiming her clit as mine.
S. She arches off the bed.
P. She rubs her clit against my face.
A. She flops back down.
R. She rolls her hips.
K. She comes on a moan that has my dick leaking as I lick up everything she offers.
Without wiping my face, I crawl up her body and kiss her lips. “Fucking love the taste of you.” I grunt.
After reaching toward the bedside table, I grab a condom and quickly sheath myself. Her eyes are closed, her smile soft. She’s punch drunk on a sex high, and I’m ready to join her.
I direct my cock to her opening and watch as she accepts me. “You were made for me,” I groan as my head slips inside her.
I lift her hips up off the bed and hold her open while I seat myself. Her body is one lean line. With her hands tied to the headboard, her small tits and aroused nipples shudder as I pump into her.
Her eyes meet mine, and suddenly I can’t think or see or taste or feel anything except her. The beauty of the sunrise has nothing on the woman currently tied up on my bed.
“Take me,” Iris says quietly.
And I wonder if she means take her right now or take her forever. Because I’m a greedy fucker, and I want her for both. I ease her hips down and lie over her, cupping the cheeks of her ass. All so I can get to her lips, because kissing her while I come becomes imperative.