I quickly put on the other one. I need to be inside her right fucking now. I cannot wait another second. Her nipples are pinched in the clamps, and I swipe a hand along her cunt slit, and the wetness there drives me fucking mad. Just from tying and clamping her, she’s dripping for me.
She’s a dirty girl, Aubrey is, and I’m heady with my arousal for her. I blindly fumble for a condom before I lose my mind and rip the foil open, roll it on my painful dick.
Then I move on top of her, my forearms resting on the sides of her head, and I press my dick at her entrance.
Her pelvis jerks toward me, and she says, “Please, oh, please, I need you inside me.” Her chest is panting so hard the clamps are bobbing with the movement.
I slam into her, and she cries out. I let my fingers drift in her hair, touch her, tug her scalp, and I hammer her soaking wet pussy. Aubrey’s cries grow louder to nearly screams as she takes all of me in.
I drop a hand down to caress her clit and I feel the hard bud pulse under my fingertips. “You’re a wicked girl, aren’t you,” I breathe in her ear. “You like being fucked like this, dirty and spread open for me. Your nipples clamped and your wrists and ankles bound.”
“Yes,” she gasps.
We move together, and my body starts to slick with sweat. She’s slippery beneath my hand, around my dick, wet like I’ve never seen a woman before. Aubrey begins to buck her pelvis, her head pushed back on the pillow, body bowed.
“Are you going to come for me, my dirty girl?” I growl. I speed up my strokes on her pussy as I fuck her harder. I want to drive her crazy. I want to make her crave more of me, of this. I need it more than I need oxygen.
My own orgasm is swelling, and I fight it as best as I can. My balls are tight and tugged to my body, and my limbs are tense.
“I’m…so close,” she says, and then her eyes fly open. “Almost there.”
On impulse, I shift down until my mouth is over a clamp, and I pull it up and away from her body so her nipple is stretched harder.
Aubrey screams and erupts all around me. I feel her cunt juices gushing on my dick, and then I can’t hold my own orgasm back and I shoot my load into the condom, bucking on her, body vibrating, heart racing, lungs locked. Fuck, fuck, my brain is a jumbled mess and all I can think about is her name.
It takes a while before our orgasms subside. I pull myself together, withdraw from her, and then gently remove the clamps from her nipples. Her sudden inhalation turns into a sigh when I lick and kiss the tips. Then I remove her wrist cuffs, massaging the limbs to get blood back into them, then the ankle cuffs.
Aubrey’s body is lax and malleable as I maneuver her to lie on her side. I remove my condom and toss it away, then curl up against her, heart still racing like I’m on speed. She melts against my chest and gives a soft little sigh that tears me apart.
Fuck me, this woman is everything.
I’ve never had someone give herself to me so willingly, especially after everything she’s been through. Aubrey trusted me to take care of her, to not hurt her. I tug her tighter against me and swear that I won’t let her down. I can’t.
This woman has shaken me apart in every way, has turned my life upside down, and I need her.
We remain silent for several minutes, just breathing, relaxing through her aftercare.
“How do you feel?” I finally ask her. I brush damp hairs from her brow.
“Like…melted butter.” Her voice sounds so sated and drowsy from our sex that I can’t help but crow internally.
I did this to her. Me, giving in to something I hunger for, something I always thought would ruin a girl like Aubrey. I took a chance, and she responded and loved it. My chest swells and I wrap my hand around her hip to cup her belly.
“I want you to stay here. With me,” I say out of nowhere, voicing the tiny thought that has been niggling at the back of my mind. I can’t bear to let her go back to her apartment, unprotected. Unsafe.
She stiffens, and the reaction makes me start thinking of reasons on how to convince her this would be a good idea. I don’t want her to think it’s because I’m trying to control her. The truth is, I care. A lot. More than I want to admit to her. I care, and the thought of her being in danger without me there to protect her freaks me out.
“Are you going to tell me it’s for my own good?” she says in a low tone.
I draw in a slow breath and search for the right words. “I can tell you all I like what I think is good for you. But in the end, you have to make that choice for yourself. You can go to the police, of course.”
She snorts. “Right. Because they’re so responsive in these situations.”
Sad truth. God only knows how our local police would react if they knew about her connection with me, anyway. Probably give her an even harder time.