His fingers fist in the hair at my nape, angling my head toward his. The kiss is almost bruising in its ferocity. I can taste the faint flavor of myself on his tongue.

I want to touch him, but I can't. Rope winds my wrists, pulls my arms over my head. He's got me the way he likes me best. I don't mind it either.

His knee parts my thighs and his hands press down, pinning my already bound body to the mattress. He slides his fingers inside me, thrusts until I'm panting and pulling at the ropes. Liquid runs down my inner thighs, pools on the sheets beneath me. I'm in that place where only he can take me, where the world is gone, replaced by his lips and tongue, his hands and cock, and the words spilling from his mouth.

He murmurs sweet, dirty things about how silky soft I feel, how wet and hot. He tells me how much he likes me there--arms bound, legs spread and moaning for him. It's not long until I'm begging and he guides the smooth crown of his shaft inside me.

His mouth seals over mine as the head of his cock finds the back of my cunt.