He backed off, letting her ride it out, then leaned in to kiss her once more. She didn’t realize he’d switched off the wand and set it down until his hand was between her thighs, his fingers pressing inside her. He was pumping into her, catching her G-spot. Pleasure rose in mere seconds, and she was on the verge of climax, panting into his mouth.
When he reached up with his free hand to pinch her nipple, she couldn’t hold back—she came in a dizzying torrent, her body arching up off the table, her mouth latching onto his as pleasure knifed into her in sharp waves that seemed to carry some leftover sensation of sparking, electric tingles.
Her orgasm began to subside, but he wasn’t having it. He kept working her with his hand, and pressure built once more, quickly taking her up and over the edge as she came so hard her face went numb. And before the sensation had a chance to fade, he started in again.
“Duff,” she panted. “I don’t think . . . I can’t.”
“You can. And you will,” he said, his tone low and threatening in the most lovely way, heavy with the Scottish accent.
“Oh . . .”
Pressure built, twined with pleasure, and it was like a snake weaving its way through her system. She thought she was too worn-out, too overstimulated. But it was Duff, and she wanted to come for him again, wanted to be rendered helpless in this way. And soon pleasure spiraled and dove, and she dove with it, crashing through the clouds of sensation that threatened to envelop her. Even as she was coming she knew she was completely out of her head. But all she could do was groan, then yell.
“Ah, Jesus fuck! Duffffff!”
“Again,” he ordered.
She let out a sob, but he was relentless, his hand pumping into her, his warm, wet mouth going to her nipple, bringing new sensation. And something about the sweet liquid heat allowed her body to release whatever tenuous threads held it back, and suddenly she was coming again. Or still. All she could do was shiver under his touch, drink him in as he kissed her hard. And come until he decided it was enough.
? ? ?
DUFF PUMPED HIS hand into her. He couldn’t get enough—enough of her cries as she came, the sensation of her hot pussy clenching around his fingers, how she drenched his hand over and over. He couldn’t get enough of her gorgeously glazed eyes, the flush in her cheeks, the way her body moved so sinuously within the restraints. He was hard as iron, hot and eager to be inside her. He just needed to make her come a few dozen times—or as many times as he could stand before climbing on top of her and pushing his way in. Lord, she was beautiful. Her face. Her curving body. Her submission. Even more beautiful knowing how hard-won it was, how difficult for her to go there. It felt like the gift he knew it was.
“Come on, my lovely girl. You’re going to come for me again, as many times as I want you to. Until you’re so sore the coming itself hurts. Until you scream your throat raw. Then I’m going to be inside you, and you’re going to come again for me, around my cock. Oh, yeah. Come on, Layla.”
He thrust into her, his curved fingers stroking at her G-spot, and she was so thoroughly wet inside he could barely keep his aim straight. Using his other hand, he spread the lips of her sex wide, and began a rhythmic tapping on her swollen clit. She was pink and glistening and, good Lord, simply looking at her made his cock twitch. He jabbed harder, deeper, and when she tried to close her eyes, her face awash with languid pleasure, he ordered her, “No, princess. You look at me. See my face when you come. Know it’s me that makes you come so hard.”
Her lashes fluttered; then she focused on his face, her green eyes enormous, glossy. She bit her lip as the contractions started inside her once more, and he had to fight down his own spiraling desire. A low groan started in her throat, then rose in tone and volume, until she was crying out, yelling, then screaming as he continued to work her mercilessly. But the moment was as much without mercy for him—it was all he could do to keep his fingers buried deep inside her when he wanted—needed unbearably—to bury his dick inside her to the hilt.
She was still trembling when he pulled his hand from her, her hips undulating on the table as he yanked his shirt off, his jeans down. They caught on his boots and he swore as he kicked them off. Grabbing a condom from the table, he sheathed his swollen cock and climbed onto the table on top of her. He paused for one excruciating moment, watching as she writhed in her cuffs, at the wanton, hungry expression on her lovely face, before he opened her with his hand and plowed into her.
He groaned. “Ah . . .”
“Oh! Yes, Duff.”
He could feel that she was still coming, and it was nearly his undoing. He had to pause, to force a long breath into his lungs.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked her through gritted teeth, not really needing an answer. “How you challenge my self-control? Like no other woman. Christ, you’re like no other woman I’ve known.” Angling his hips, he thrust into her, making her gasp. “No other woman makes me feel like this—harder than I’ve ever been in my life. Like I need to devour you. Fucking need to. So badly it makes my teeth ache not to bite into your skin.”
He thrust again, then again and again, and he couldn’t have uttered another sensible word if his life had depended on it. No, he was nothing but sensation. Aching, soaring, shattering sensation. He had to reach down and squeeze the base of his cock to keep from coming too soon. He needed to wait, had to have some time to kiss her while he was inside her body.
He attacked her lovely mouth—there was no other word for it. He was too damn hungry for her. And she was all soft, honeyed flesh beneath him, surrounding his throbbing, rigid shaft. She was a part of him at that moment, and he didn’t know what the fuck was happening. But it was far too good to stop.
When he pulled his mouth away—only because he was about to come—she sighed quietly, her breath warm on his face as she whispered his name.