Honk if You're Hot

A low whistle of appreciation sounded from the doorway, and Okoye sucked in a sharp breath of surprise. The swirls of weightless imaginings fell away as her mind snapped into focus, and she blinked—or tried to at least. The silk scarf folded over her eyes hampered the effort, forcing her to rely on her other senses. Her ears strained for anything more, seeking reassurance as she tried to quell the nervous jitters running through her.

The heavy thud of familiar footsteps gave her the first clue, and warm, calloused hands trailing along her skin gave her the next. Then came his voice—smooth, rich, and unmistakable.

“You wouldn’t believe how perfect you look right now,” Attuma murmured from behind her, voice as soft as his touch. “I’d say you should be in a museum with all the other masterpieces, but they have …rules about touching the artwork there.”

Her jaw ticked as she fought the smirk that threatened to rise at his cheesiness, but she didn’t respond. She knew better.

Instead, Okoye focused on regulating her breathing as he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder.

“Rules I couldn’t possibly hope to follow,” he husked into her ear, pressing another kiss just behind it. “Not with all the ways I’ve been thinking about touching you tonight.”

She shivered as deft hands made quick work of the silk ties that held her wrists together.

“Hope you weren’t waiting too long for me.”

She felt a brief flash of irritation at the false sentiment and huffed, unamused. He knew exactly how long he’d be gone—how long he’d left her waiting and wanting. Even if she didn’t. All she knew was that it had been long enough.

Long enough for her legs to go numb in their folded position.

Long enough for her mind to wander places it probably shouldn’t have.

Long enough for her imagination to run wild, thinking of every sordid, filthy thing he might do to her tonight.

Attuma indulged her bit of brattiness with a dark chuckle, massaging her wrists for a moment before standing and circling her again.

She was acutely aware of him. Even blindfolded, the rest of her senses were sharp, alive, and full of nothing else. The heat radiating off his body as he loomed over her. The musk of his cologne, clinging to his skin. The sharp spice of cigar smoke she knew lingered on his tongue. Every carefully measured breath he took as he drank her in.

A hand grazed her collarbone, sending a shiver down her spine. It traveled the length of her neck, cupping her nape and tilting her head back, and a calloused thumb traced over her jugular vein. Once. Twice. Then, on the third pass, her lover pressed down, holding her there just long enough for her pulse to throb wildly against his skin.

Her lashes fluttered beneath the blindfold, a dizzying bolt of pleasure flooding her senses when he let go.

She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to quiet the moan in her chest, letting out a breathy sigh instead. He answered with a low hum, sliding his fingers into her hair to massage the base of her skull.

Then he bent down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“I think it goes without saying,” he murmured, “but you should know: I plan to do an awful lot of touching tonight, sweetheart.”

Her stomach flipped at the naked desire in his voice, and a sharp pang of arousal made her center throb with need. A steady nod was all she could manage, and the feeling of his upturned lips against her temple was all the warning she got before the onslaught began.

He was surprisingly gentle.

Whisper-soft kisses were brushed down her jaw and across her cheeks before continuing up the line of her nose. Then, a featherlight press landed on each of her covered eyes. The hand in her hair remained, scratching light, soothing circles in her scalp; the other cradled her face, turning her head this way and that as his lips moved in a pattern she couldn’t decipher. He followed the curve of her cheekbones one moment, the slope of her nose in the next. Always close, but never where she wanted him.

She reached for his face—only to find her wrist caught in a fast, firm hold.

No touching, then.

A tender kiss on her fluttering pulse accompanied the soft shake of his head, confirming her thoughts.

He guided her hand back down to her lap. “Keep these here for me, hm?”

A gentle squeeze to both of her wrists followed his whispered request, and she nodded in understanding despite her disappointment. Her fingers twisted in the lacy hem of her negligee as he continued.

Unable to see him and unallowed to touch, Okoye had no choice but to bask in his tender attentions. Attuma’s kisses drifted up and down, in and out, tracing the ridge of her brow and the shell of her ear. Every brush of his lips stoked the low embers of her arousal. He nibbled on her earlobe, catching the sensitive skin between his teeth, tugging on it until she gasped.

She breathed a sweet sigh of bliss, mouth falling open, head tipping back as desire overtook her senses, dissolving her thoughts to nothingness. For a moment, she thought she’d heard him murmur something, but it was lost in the haze clouding her mind.

She felt him smile again, lips quirking up against her cheek this time. He peppered a line of kisses along her jaw to the corner of her mouth—lingering there, then pulling away.

A near-silent whimper slipped from her lips.

She craned her neck, chasing the kiss he’d denied her, but a firm tug on her locs stilled her movement. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m going to need an answer before we continue, darlin’,” Attuma said, answering the question she hadn’t voiced.

Had he asked her something?

Had she missed it?

The furrow deepened. Okoye scrunched her nose and let out a questioning hum.

“Distracted, were you?” His thumb brushed across her lips as he laughed softly at her puzzled face. “I suppose I can’t blame you,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to the underside of her jaw. “You’re just as distracting to me, too.”

The words were breathed against her mouth in a pseudo-kiss that only made her ache more. Tempted as she was to steal it—just one kiss—she knew better. If she did, he’d likely deny her for the rest of the night.

And that was a nonstarter.

She loved his kisses.

Attuma nudged her nose with his own, resting his forehead against hers, bringing her back from her errant thoughts.

“Tell me your color, sweetheart.”

“Green, Sir.”

The answer spilled out in a breathless rush before he’d hardly finished the command.

He let out a pleased hum and kissed the corner of her mouth again, trailing another line of featherlight kisses up her cheek to her ear. Okoye held back her whimper at being denied again—but the disappointment didn’t last.

Swift and sure, his mouth descended on hers.

She squeaked in surprise, then melted into him.

Their lips moved together in a rhythm of highs and lows. Meeting and matching. Pushing and pulling. A dance she knew every step to. He tasted just like she knew he would—bourbon and smoke and something nutty that told her he’d gone to his favorite cigar lounge after leaving her bound and blind to wait for this moment right here.

The kiss deepened as he pulled her into him, warmth blooming in her chest and pooling low in her belly. His tongue teased at the seam of her lips, tracing the fullness of her bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, nibbling it gently.

Feeling bold now that she’d had a taste, Okoye grazed her teeth over his upper lip. His answering groan was muted and dangerous. Wanton. She felt it all the way down to her toes. He bit down on her lip in reprimand, jerking her closer, then snaked his tongue into her mouth and traced the back of her teeth.

She squirmed, thighs clenching as the heat of her arousal spread. He didn’t miss a thing.

Attuma pulled back with a low, dirty chuckle.

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he said, trailing hot kisses along her jaw. The hand tangled in her hair tightened in an instant, sending a sharp thrill racing down her spine as he growled in her ear. “I’m going to fuck your brains out.”

A soft keen escaped before she had thought to stop it, but Attuma didn’t seem to care for the slip-up.

He crashed his lips to hers, all traces of his earlier gentleness swept away as his grip turned bruising. His mouth ravaged hers—all tongue and teeth and need. It was more claim than kiss, and she could taste his hunger.

Okoye balled her fists, nails biting into her palms to keep herself from pulling him closer, and surrendered to his unforgiving mercies. Her capitulation was rewarded quickly. His tongue swept between her lips, dancing with hers, drawing a long moan from deep in her chest.

Her lungs burned as air became a scarce commodity, but Attuma didn’t relent.

He drew her up to her knees, keeping their mouths fused all the while. His hand slid from her hair down her back, palming the cheeks of her ass and pulling her flush against him until there wasn’t a breath of space between their bodies. Her breasts crushed against the hard planes of his chest, and she shuddered as the silk of her negligee dragged across her stiffened nipples.

Attuma moaned this time and deepened their kiss, pulling her closer like he couldn’t get enough.

Like there’d never be enough.

Okoye pressed into him, eager to give everything he was taking, and whined pitifully when the need to breathe finally tore him away.

He didn’t go far.

They panted in tandem, breath mingling, the air between them charged with a passion so heady it made her dizzy. She was drunk on it—on him. His hold softened, and he cradled her tenderly. Like she was something precious.

To him, she knew she was.

She could feel his heated gaze on her again. Staring. Studying. Her thighs clenched under the weight of it, arousal flaring as his thumb traced over her now-kiss-swollen bottom lip.

Gods, she wished she could see his eyes.

She could picture them perfectly—his usual dark brown blown black with lust, glowing with a hunger that made her shiver. They always did when he had her like this.

The damned blindfold denied her the chance. And worse, it robbed her of the opportunity to see him coming. Like now, when he ducked down to kiss her twice more. Less urgent than before, but still edged with a yearning that made her chase after each one, seeking more and more and more.

He denied her again, lavishing his affections down her neck instead. His tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat, making her tremble with need, and she threw her head back, biting her tongue to stifle the sounds of her pleasure.

It was futile.

The moment he brought his teeth into the mix, grazing the rigid line of her collarbone, a loud gasp tore from her throat. It echoed in the quiet of her bedroom and earned her an even harsher bite.

She knew better.

“Quiet now, darlin’,” he warned lowly, grabbing a rough handful of her ass. “Don’t you know pretty things were made to be seen and not heard?” The words were edged with something dangerous, sending a bolt of molten heat flooding through her. She bit her lip to suppress her whimper.

“I’d hate to have to leave you here for the rest of the night just ‘cause you can’t shut up.”

She stiffened at the threat, shaking her head rapidly. Desperately.

“I know. I know,” Attuma said, the edge bleeding from his voice as he pressed a sweet kiss beneath her chin. “I don’t wanna do that either, sweetheart. Which is why you’re gonna be good for me, yeah? Nice and quiet?”

Okoye nodded, swallowing thickly. Staying quiet was always a challenge, but she was miles beyond desperate now. Her thighs were slick with desire, and she could feel her pulse in every throb of her aching clit.

If he left her like this—all worked up with no release?—Bast as her witness, she would cry.

“Good,” he praised, pressing soft, almost chaste kisses to her lips in reward. “Arms around me then, pretty girl.”

She obeyed without hesitation, winding her arms around his neck as his mouth found hers again. His hands slid down, palms curving over the swell of her ass before hooking beneath her thighs. He lifted her in one easy motion, and her legs wrapped around his waist on instinct.

Her bare center met the coarse denim of his jeans, and she gasped against his mouth.

The friction was a searing jolt, sending white-hot sparks racing up her spine. Her fingers tangled in the thick strands of his hair, scrambling for purchase as she rolled her hips into the rigid press of his arousal. He groaned—a strained, drawn-out sound that made her chest thrum—and his hands flexed on her thighs, pressing bruises into the soft skin.

The five steps between the chaise and her bed were a cruel tease. A test of her restraint, and had it been any longer, one she would have failed.

The mattress met her back with maddening softness, and she whimpered at the loss of his lips when he pulled away. She sat up instinctively, trying to keep him close, but he wouldn’t have it. Gentle fingers unwound hers from his hair, and he stood to his full height, chuckling low in his throat when she pouted.

Then came the quiet rustle of fabric.

His shirt hit the floor near the foot of the bed, and her breath hitched.

The metallic clinking of his belt was next.

Fuck.

She cursed the blindfold for the third time.

All she could do was imagine the miles of tanned skin she couldn’t see. His broad chest and sculpted arms. The wide, smooth planes of his back. The thick, corded muscles of his thighs. And his scars—raised and rigid, lining his torso in perfect symmetry.

She could trace them with her tongue.

Or better yet… ride them until she–

A heavy thud snapped her out of her sinful imaginings.

His jeans.

Fuck.

He stepped back into her space, and she let out a shaky breath.

His skin radiated heat. She could feel it on her lips—close enough to taste. Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip on reflex. A hand fisted in her hair jerked her head back before she could dare, and his mouth crashed down on hers again in a carnal, lust-drenched kiss that tasted like pure sin.

He crawled on top of her, using the weight of his body to nudge her backward until her feet rested on the edge of the bed, legs splayed open, and knees cradling his hips. Filthy words were murmured between filthier kisses, and she tore her mouth from his when a hand cupped her center.

She nearly bit her tongue in two to keep from crying out, the metallic tang of copper flooding her mouth.

Attuma didn’t care. And thank Bast, he didn’t stop. Her lover pressed on, spreading her slick folds and slipping deft fingers through the heat of her wetness, moaning his praise at the feel of her.

“You’re so wet, darlin’... is this all for me?”

She gave a frenzied nod, her hips bucking into his hand. Thick fingers traced the length of her slit, gathering her arousal and drawing slow, torturous circles around her clit while his mouth found her neck again.

Her chest heaved, breaths coming in heavy, broken pants with every bruising kiss he left along the column of her throat. She bit out a strangled moan when the tip of one blunt finger sank into her, just enough to tease, before he drew back.

Over and over and over again, he toyed with her, playing her body like an instrument he’d spent years learning, driving her mad with need. She writhed beneath him, gritting her teeth to stifle her desperate pleas and frustrated growls rising in her throat. His answering chuckle was just as torturous as his unrelenting touch.

It was never that easy with him.

Sharp teeth grazed over the tops of her breasts, catching a stiffened peak between them and tugging until her back arched off the bed. He pulled the bud into his mouth, then laved at it through the silk of her negligee, making her whole body tremble from the sensation. A rough hand clamped down on her hip, keeping her in place. Reminding her she was utterly helpless and entirely at his mercy.

Fire licked through her veins as his mouth sucked harshly at her breast, and his teasing fingers pushed her closer and closer to an edge she’d never reach.

She mouthed silent pleas, fervent and aching for something, anything.

Please, please, please.

The ragged breath she let out when he finally sank one thick finger into her was like a gunshot.

It wasn’t nearly enough.

“Oh, you’re ready, aren’t you, baby?” he teased, almost cruel. “Do you need more?”

A broken whimper was all she could give, her hips bucking fruitlessly into his hand.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.

Whether he was feeling benevolent or merciful, Okoye couldn’t say. She didn’t particularly care. Her world had narrowed to the building rhythm and subtle curve of his fingers as one became two, and he began to fuck her.

In and out. Back and forth.

It was all she could do to keep her hands off him and her mouth shut.

She wasn’t completely quiet, of course. Harsh pants and strangled squeaks slipped free as his pace quickened, faster and faster. A dull roar built in her ears, her blood rushing, her mind spiraling. Everything felt too good and not good enough.

His fingers curled again, setting her every nerve alight. She bit her lip to blood, hips rolling in perfect rhythm to his every thrust, chasing the high only he could give her.

Attuma’s mouth left her chest in a mess of wet silk and burning skin, trailing kisses up her neck to murmur wicked praises in her ear.

“That's it, sweetheart… open up for me,” he purred. “You’re doing so well. Think you can take another?”

Okoye nodded frantically again, without thought or care. She needed more.

She wanted everything.

He slowed—just enough—and two became three.

His thumb pressed against her clit.

His fingers curled deep inside her.

And she screamed.

The high she’d been chasing slammed into her with the fury of a rushing tide, dragging a low, guttural sound from her throat. It was blindsiding, sweeping away every thought of restraint and ounce of her will, leaving her with only shattered silence in its wake.

She panted heavily, trying to regain her breath as the shock of what she’d done settled around her.

His fingers stilled, and her body froze.

Fuck.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, prickling with dread.

She knew better.

For one harrowing second, the world went still.

Then, Attuma’s growl cracked through the room like thunder.

“Oh, darlin’,” he purred, low and dangerous in her ear, “you’re gonna pay for that.”

His fingers slipped free in an instant, leaving her aching and empty, and her whimper turned into a startled gasp as his hands gripped her thighs. She didn’t have a moment to breathe before he was dragging her to the edge of the bed like a rag doll.

“Attuma, I’m–oh!”

The apology died on her lips as her wrists were captured in a vice-like grip. He yanked her to her feet, twisting her until her back was pressed against his chest.

“Please, Attuma–” She tried again, the words tumbling out in a panicked rush. He squeezed her wrists, and she winced, righting the only error she could. “Sir, please… I–”

“Shut. Up,” he bit out, grip tightening around her again.

Her jaw clamped shut at the command, not trusting her voice in the face of the dangerous tone his had taken on.

“Oh, so you can keep quiet, huh?” he taunted, ripping the blindfold from her face. She blinked, eyes cloudy and stinging as light flooded in. “Still, it doesn’t hurt to have some help, does it, darlin’?”

Her lips parted in confusion, only to find her mouth full of silk as Attuma shoved the balled-up blindfold between them.

He didn’t stop there, pushing her forward until her hands hit the mattress and kicking her feet apart so she was just off balance. Rough hands jerked her hips up, forcing her to her toes, and Okoye could only whimper through the makeshift gag.

“Shut up,” he said again. A warning this time.

And she tried.

By the gods, she tried.

But they were as merciless as the man behind her.

Attuma didn’t spare a second, lining himself up and sinking into her with one brutal stroke. And with no time to think or even breathe, Okoye sobbed.

Her hands scrambled, fisting the sheets as he drove into her. Unrepentant and unforgiving. Every thrust was tinged with the sweetest pain, and despite her efforts, each stroke forced a muffled, ragged keen from her. The pace he set was punishing, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love every moment. Her eyes screwed shut as her body sang with sensation—overwrought and somehow still desperate for more.

Her next moan was closer to a shriek—high and reedy, barely dulled by the silk stuffed between her teeth.

A hand clapped over her mouth, pulling her upright until her back arched almost painfully. Her breath hitched. Her legs trembled. And he never stopped.

“Shut. Up,” he snarled into her ear.

It was an impossible demand, and still she tried.

She wanted to scream. And so she bit down on the silk.

She wanted to beg. And so she dug her nails into the sheets.

But she couldn’t silence the way he split her open.

She could only feel.

Every brutal thrust of his dick as he ravaged her from within.

Every slap of his skin against hers as his hips slammed into hers.

Every ragged breath he tore from her, trapped by the drenched silk in her mouth.

Every senseless throb of her aching cunt, swollen and dripping as he drove her further and faster to ruin.

She arched harder, head falling back on his shoulder, her hand desperately gripping the arm banded about her waist.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Is it too much?” He crooned, slowing his pace and driving into her harder and deeper than he ever had. His voice was soaked in mock sympathy, condescension dripping from his lips like honey. “Don’t tell me you can’t take it, pretty girl. You were so. fucking. eager. to come for me before.”

He twisted his wrist to grasp her clawing fingers and trailed both of their hands down her body to her drenched slit. Forcing her to feel how he’d split her open. How he was taking her apart, piece-by-blessed-piece.

“This is what you wanted, right? What I promised you?”

The blindfold-turned-gag muffled another broken keen, but Attuma was undeterred. He let her wrist fall limp, both hands gripping her hips like steel as he sped back up. Short, sharp strokes—each one unerring and utterly devastating. She felt every inch of him dragging against her trembling nerves, sending sparks skittering through her entire body. Okoye scrambled, hands moving in a frenzy as she tried to find purchase on something, anything.

“You know I always keep my promises.”

Her whole body quaked, every muscle taut, every breath stolen. She rolled her ass back into him instinctively, tears burning in the corners of her eyes. The coil of pleasure wound tighter and tighter in the face of her impending climax, and she shuddered, moaning as the edge of delirium approached with frightening speed.

The gag muffled her wanton pleas, but that didn’t stop her.

Please, please, please–

Her nails raked at the hand pinning her in place, but that didn’t stop him.

“You’re gonna come for me again,” he hissed into her ear, his voice a velvet rasp.

Okoye shook her head frantically.

She wouldn’t dare. Not again. Not without permission.

“That wasn’t a question, baby,” Attuma chuckled, low and lecherous in her ear. “You’re going to come for me again. You don’t get a choice.” Each snap of his hips into hers was a deliberate strike—methodical and merciless and dismantling any hope she had of resistance. “You’re going to come on my dick. Over and over, until that greedy little pussy of yours is all fucked out. And then,” he whispered, sharp teeth grazing her ear, “you’re gonna give me one more.”

Rough fingers took up a rapid rhythm against her clit, drawing tight, messy circles around the aching bud in time with his thrusts. Her body writhed as he struck flint against steel.

Once.

Twice.

And she felt her body catch fire.

Heaven and hell met in a blazing inferno, and Okoye burned at its epicenter.

Her head bowed, and she wailed against the gag. She shuddered violently—sweet, aching heat curling in her veins. Pleasure roared in her ears, and stars burst behind her eyes. Her legs locked, and her back arched as she moved with and against him. White-hot pulses rolled through her in rapid succession, her second climax no less devastating than the first, and she writhed, somehow torn between wanting nothing else and needing so much more.

Attuma refused to let her come down. He was relentless, pace never changing, fingers never stopping. The hand on her hip swept back and hooked under her knee, lifting it onto the bed and sending her reeling. She teetered dangerously, barely keeping her footing on the tip of her toes, and dropped to her forearms as her leg buckled. The shift tilted her hips, opening her further to his unyielding drive, and she cried out—ragged, broken gasps swallowed by the drenched silk in her mouth.

Merciless strokes kept her dangling at the precipice with no end in sight, forcing her to take him—to feel him as he drove into her. Harder. Faster. Deeper. Steel hands pinned her in place, deft fingers twisted just so, and she hit a new octave.

Her third high was a maelstrom of unending sensation. Blood rushed in her ears like thunder. Lightning crackled under her skin. Bliss cut like a knife, wreaking unholy havoc on every one of her senses, leaving her mind blank and blinding white. She keened, fingers scrabbling for purchase and tearing at the sheets, as she bucked against him.

A hand cracked against her ass, viciously reminding her she had nowhere to run.

“Don’t you dare. You don’t get to run from me,” he growled, both hands jerking her back onto his dick as he redoubled his efforts—fucking into her hard and impossibly deep, “not after that little stunt you pulled.” Another smack landed, demanding her attention. Her penance. “You’re going to take every inch of me, baby. Like the greedy slut you are. And we won’t stop until I say we’re done.”

A final crack of his palm against her skin rang out, the sweet sting punctuating his declaration, searing it like a brand into her skin. Her teeth clenched, biting down on the silk and choking out a strangled moan, knowing it wouldn’t take much, not with how far gone she was. Okoye pressed her cheek into the mattress, hot tears spilling over as she arched back without thought.

Attuma’s pleased hum bordered on a groan. “Mmm, there she is… Push it back for me, baby,” he breathed, raw desire bleeding into his tone. He gripped a handful of her ass, spreading her open for his lewd gaze. “Come on, greedy girl—I know you can give just as good as you get.”

It was base instinct that had her hips rolling back despite her trembling legs. Wanton need that had her clenching around him, bearing down despite her overshot nerves. Mindless abandon that had her wanting, wishing, praying, for the high that would bring her crashing down.

His hands were possessive on her body, dragging her down onto him as he drove up—meeting her halfway with devastating precision. His voice dropped into that husky scrape that told her he was just as close to the edge as she was, and their rhythm coalesced into a carnal medley: the wet slap of skin on skin, her gagged and breathless moans growing higher in pitch and fervor, his gravel-and-sin voice guiding her. Goading her.

Praise and possession spilled from his lips in a debauched litany.

“Fuck, darlin’.” Attuma’s hips slammed into hers, “You’re squeezing me so tight, baby. Taking me so well. And fuck—if you don’t look good doing it.”

He spread her further, groaning again, and she answered with a choked gasp, knowing his gaze was locked onto where their bodies met. It was obscene and profane, and so, so hot.

“I know you’re gonna come again, sweetheart. I can feel it. You’re gonna come for me, and that’ll be mine. Just like this perfect ass is. And this greedy cunt of yours.”

His fingers found her clit again, and an inhuman sound left her throat. Her eyes slammed shut as her hips bucked wildly, body writhing as he drew relentless circles across the slick, swollen bud.

“You’re gonna scream for me when you do, and that’ll be mine, too. Just like you are.”

His thrusts grew frenzied, rhythm breaking as he drove them both to the very brink. Electric sparks curled up her spine with every ragged scrape of his dick inside her, and she sobbed into the sheets.

“I want what’s mine, Okoye. Give it to me. Now.”

The command came in a vicious growl, and she couldn’t do anything but obey.

The scream that tore out of her throat was nothing short of primal.

Her body jerked with it, nerves misfiring in every direction like a live wire. Agony tangled with ecstasy as she surrendered to the blistering waves of her fourth orgasm, and her senses blurred to static.

The world splintered apart beneath her, and she fell with it—dragging Attuma down alongside her.

He came with a guttural snarl, body shuddering and grip bruising. His hips stuttered against hers, fingers faltering, and she let out a weak moan as he filled her, flooding her with warmth.

Her limbs finally gave out, and she collapsed into the mattress, mind going blissfully blank.

~~~

Time slipped by unnoticed as she drifted in and out, her world shifting between slow, shuttered blinks.

Gentle hands smoothed warmth across her hips and back, soothing her whimpers as he eased himself from her body.

Strong arms lifted her fully onto the bed, slipping ruined silk and lace from her body, and rearranging her boneless limbs beneath his.

Careful fingers coaxed her mouth open, working the gag from between her teeth before massaging her jaw and neck.

Soft lips pressed kisses into the salt of her skin, trailing from her nape to her shoulder, whispering reverent praises between every breath.

“Mm, you were perfect, darlin’,” he murmured, kissing the underside of her jaw. “So perfect.”

She stirred at the sound of his voice, lashes fluttering but never quite lifting. Another kiss dropped to her forehead, and she pressed her face into his, still too wrung out for words.

“Wore you out, huh, sweetheart?” A quiet laugh rumbled through him as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “But you took me so well. You always do.”

Another kiss followed the compliment, landing on the corner of her lips, and she turned her head just enough to catch his mouth with her own.

It was soft and unhurried—all languid desire and satisfied passion. They breathed each other in, lips pulling in long passes, tongues teasing but never taking.

Attuma hummed into her mouth, and she released his lips with a happy sigh, going lax into the pillows once more. He continued lavishing her with sweet praises, pressing gentle, adoring kisses on every inch of skin he could reach.

Slow hands roamed the length of her body, shifting her little by little until his mouth was leaving lingering, open-mouthed kisses across her ribs. Her mind drifted, floating somewhere far away in the hazy clouds of bliss. She sighed again, loose-limbed and pliant, and her hands found his hair as he dipped below her belly button, fingers slipping through loose strands.

Broad shoulders nudged her thighs open as he dusted kisses across her hipbones. He settled himself between her still-trembling legs, and her brow furrowed, warmth blooming through the haze. She blinked, slow and listless, and let out a soft whimper of confusion when his mouth met the slick skin of her thighs.

Her fingers stilled in his hair, breath hitching as his tongue traced the inner seam.

“Wait… Attuma, wait, I–” Her voice was a weak, barely there whisper, and she shifted, trying in vain to close her legs. “I don’t think I can–oh!”

He pressed the lightest of kisses to her clit, and she flinched, her hips jumping at the contact, her protests dying before she could voice them.

“You can,” he said, soft and sure. “You will.” He nosed up her slit, speaking directly over the overwrought bundle of nerves at her center. Dark eyes flicked up to meet her half-lidded ones. “You’re going to.”

The certainty in his tone shouldn’t have been such a turn-on, but Okoye couldn’t deny the slow spread of molten heat emanating from where his mouth was already doing wicked things to her.

His head dipped low again, tongue mirroring his earlier actions on the opposite thigh, and she whimpered.

“I made you a promise, didn’t I, darlin’?” he whispered, pressing another featherlight kiss to her clit, holding her steady when she jumped again. “Let me keep it.”

It wasn’t a request.

She knew as much.

However nicely worded or quietly spoken, there was no mistaking the demand in his voice.

He was going to take her again.

She was going to let him.

Her fingers loosened just a fraction, body relaxing beneath him once more as he nuzzled the top of her mound. He hummed, satisfied by her submission, and ran a soothing hand over the trembling muscles of her stomach. His other hand traced the length of her thigh before hooking under her knee and spreading her further for him.

The shift brought her attention to the steady trail of wet leaking from her center, and she tensed all over again.

“Wait–don’t–Attuma, you–”

Her objections shattered into a high, strangled gasp as he licked a wide, flat stripe up her cunt, groaning deeply as he went.

The sound sent a shock of vibration through her, and her fingers twisted in his hair again—too shocked for words and too weak to push him away.

He did it again, slower this time, catching every trace of ‌their combined spend in one long, languid pass of his tongue from slit to clit. Then he sucked her clit into his mouth, tapping it gently with his tongue before releasing it with a soft, filthy pop.

His pleased hum rumbled up her spine, and he grinned at her, wicked and wanton. “We taste good together.”

Okoye didn’t respond.

She couldn’t.

Not when his mouth was back on her, moving in slow, reverent laps, savoring her like she was his favorite sin.

Not when his tongue was gliding through the mess he’d made of her—of them—like he’d never get to taste her again.

She let out a hoarse moan, back arching off the bed as his tongue swept over her in tender, unhurried strokes. Her hips rocked up despite herself, thighs falling further open as he licked into her, teasing at her aching opening.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me have you,” he coaxed, covering her mound with his mouth, laving at sodden folds.

He kissed and licked and lapped at her, every languid pass of his tongue making her quiver. It was all so gentle, yet still so devastating after all the havoc he’d wreaked on her earlier. She felt the telltale rise of heat pooling in her belly and let out a broken whimper, unable to comprehend her body’s response.

“Look at you, pretty girl,” Attuma murmured, voice low and laced with dark delight. “You said you couldn’t take any more, but here you are… dripping for me.”

He parted her folds with his thumbs and dragged his tongue up her slit again, grinning when a guttural moan sounded from deep in her chest.

“Gonna come on my tongue, greedy girl?”

“I can’t,” she said, dragging the word out in a pitiful whine.

Her body told a different story.

It was clear in the way her legs trembled and her hips rolled. The way her toes curled and her back arched. The way her fingers kept twisting in his hair and her empty, aching cunt clenched around nothing.

She was going to come again.

She was going to come again, and Attuma knew it.

“Yes, you are.” His chuckle was filthy. Smug.

She almost hated it.

“Come on then, baby. Give me what’s mine.”

His lips wrapped around her clit again, pulling the swollen bud into his mouth and sucking with just enough force to make her cry out. Then, he flattened his tongue and pressed, working it back and forth against her heated flesh until it was all too much.

The dam broke, and her lips parted on a high, desperate sound.

Bliss surged like a tide, pushing past her disbelief and denial, and swept her away, leaving nothing but the thrum of his name in her veins. She clutched at him wildly—her hand fisted in his hair, her nails carving half-moons in his shoulder—trying to anchor herself against the onslaught. Her body shuddered through the swells, rocking in time with his mouth as he coaxed her through it.

The high ebbed slowly, each wave smaller and softer until euphoria finally gave way to exhaustion.

Her body sagged beneath his, boneless and spent, and he finally pulled his mouth from her, leaving a gentle kiss on her clit.

He took his time making his way back up her body, smoothing his hands over her thighs in soothing circles as she trembled through the aftershocks. Another whisper-like kiss just below her belly button, and one more, right above her heart.

Then, his lips were on hers, kissing her sweet, slow, and deep.

“Mine,” he whispered.

A truth that didn’t need telling, but one she confirmed anyway.

“Yours.”

~Finis~

A/N: There's a whole spiel in my brain about practicing BDSM safely, but I'm way too tired for the full lecture. Main points are Communication, Consent, & Trust. Communicate your boundaries long before you get into bed with partner. Make sure Consent is given explicitly and not just implied. And Trust your body, your limits, and your partner. Also please remember, no good Dom wants to hear your safe word. It's a safety net, not a goalpost.

This has been a PSA from your favorite Pillow Princess ☺️